“Mommy, is that the one?” she asked.
“That’s the one, sweetheart.”
“And I get to see the clouds?”
I knelt until we were eye to eye.
She gave me the small, cautious smile she saved for moments that felt too important to celebrate loudly.
My chest tightened with love.
Nearby, the gate agent frowned at her computer. One hand rested against her headset as she murmured something I could not hear. She briefly glanced toward the jet bridge before returning to the screen.
I paid little attention.
Airports were always full of minor complications being handled behind the scenes.
“Ready, Em?”
“Ready!”
I took her warm little hand, and together we walked down the jet bridge.
Buzz hung from Emma’s other hand, one plush wing dragging lightly across the carpet.
“The window seat is waiting for you,” I whispered, mostly to reassure myself.
I had no idea that the email I had barely read the night before had already changed everything.
Boarding went smoothly until we reached row 7.
Emma’s fingers immediately tightened around my sleeve.
Her stuffed airplane was crushed against her chest.
A woman was already seated in 7A.
She appeared to be in her late forties and wore an expensive, carefully pressed outfit. Her handbag had been placed neatly beneath the seat in front of her.
I stopped beside her and offered my gentlest smile.
She slowly looked from me to Emma, then gave a dismissive scoff.
“I paid for the window seat. So did you, apparently. Sounds like a problem.”
At that moment, a flight attendant appeared beside us.
Her name tag said Lisa.
Without speaking, I handed her our boarding passes.
She examined them, then checked the other woman’s pass and released a weary breath.
“I’m so sorry about the confusion, ma’am. The aircraft was changed this morning. Some passengers were automatically reassigned, and there was a mistake. This seat was accidentally assigned to two passengers,” she said.
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