Chapter 2 - The Girl from Row 38
Julian’s chest tightened. For weeks, he had been trying to fix Leo like a failing spreadsheet—calculating milliliters, monitoring sleep apps, purchasing every gadget known to pediatric science. He had built a fortress of material solutions to keep grief from swallowing them whole.
The baby’s sharp shrieks softened into tremulous hiccups. The warmth of the girl’s palm seemed to act as an anchor, grounding the frantic baby and the unraveling father.
"What's his name?" she asked, her voice carrying a quiet cadence that felt remarkably mature.
"Leo," Julian said, his throat tight. "His name is Leo."
"I'm Maya," she replied. She pointed lightly toward the baby's curled fist. "He's cold on the outside because his tummy hurts from crying, but your hands are shaking, Mr. Julian. Babies feel when hands shake."
Julian stared down at his own fingers. She was right. His knuckles were pale from gripping the infant too tightly. He was holding Leo like an antique vase about to shatter, not a son who needed comfort.
"Where are your parents, Maya?" Julian asked, glancing nervously toward the economy curtain where a tired-looking woman had just peeked through, her eyes searching with sudden panic.
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"My mama is in 38E," Maya smiled faintly. "She fell asleep. Her feet swell when she works double shifts, and this flight was the cheapest red-eye we could find."
Before Julian could answer, the tired woman rushed down the aisle, her face flushed with anxiety. "Maya! Oh, sweetheart, you can’t be up here. I’m so sorry, sir. She didn't mean to intrude."
