Ficorpio
Chapter 1
I was flying to visit my long-distance boyfriend when the plane hit severe turbulence.
I threw up until there was nothing left in my stomach.
I even wrote my farewell messages.
After we landed safely, I waved my arms around as I told my boyfriend everything that had happened.
He listened for a while, then asked calmly, “Are you finished?”
“If you are, I need to get back to my medical journals.”
The words We should get married soon lodged in my throat.
Later, he frowned and asked, “Why are you breaking up with me? Just because I didn’t sit around chatting with you?”
“Yes,” I said. “And I should thank you.”
“If I hadn’t left you, I never would’ve learned…”
“That some people will take every word I say and carve it into their hearts.”
On Friday evening, as usual, I boarded a flight to visit my long-distance boyfriend.
But this trip was different.
We flew straight into severe storm conditions.
Ten thousand feet above the ground, the plane began bucking so violently that the oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling. All around me, passengers sobbed and cried out. Every lurch of the cabin felt like death reaching for me.
They were the most terrifying thirty minutes of my life.
In despair, I took out my phone and hastily typed a few farewell messages, thanking everyone who had ever been part of my life.
By some miracle, the plane finally landed safely.
The moment we touched down, passengers burst into tears of relief.
The whole ordeal had been so dangerous that it felt like something out of a thriller. Even after I walked out of the airport, my legs were still trembling.
One thought kept flashing through my mind.
Claire Bennett, you survived the worst. Better days have to be waiting for you.
It was already late at night when the plane landed. I called a car and went straight to my boyfriend’s apartment.
Adrian Whitmore was a doctor, and he almost always got off work late.
We arrived within minutes of each other.
We hadn’t seen each other in two whole weeks, but when Adrian saw me, all he did was give me a faint smile.
As he changed and washed his hands, he said, “You should get some rest. I still have a few medical journals to read.”
I knew how busy he was. He saw patients during the day, reviewed charts after work, and somehow had to find time to write research papers on top of everything else.
Normally, I would have nodded obediently and left him alone.
But what I had just experienced was too terrifying to keep to myself. I needed to tell him.
I dropped my suitcase, rushed into Adrian’s arms, and hugged him as the words poured out of me.
Chapter 2
I told him about the woman sitting beside me, who was five months pregnant and traveling alone.
I had kept reassuring her until she finally stopped crying.
I told him that Mia, my best friend, had recently gotten me a protective charm. Maybe that was what had saved me. When I went home, I would have to give thanks for the answered prayer.
I cried and laughed at the same time, waving my arms and bouncing around as I talked for several minutes.
Adrian barely moved.
He sat on the couch with one arm resting loosely around me. His other hand lay against the armrest, his fingers gliding slowly back and forth over the fabric.
I knew he did that whenever he was deep in thought.
But I was telling him something this important. How could his mind be somewhere else?
“Hey, Adrian Whitmore. I’m talking to you!”
He came back to himself. “I’m listening.”
“Are you finished? If you are, I need to get back to my medical journals.”
Adrian had refined, striking features.
His personality, however, was always calm and distant.
In the four years we had been together, I had rarely seen him show much emotion. Even now, as I told him about my brush with death, his expression remained perfectly composed.
It was as if I weren’t describing something his girlfriend had lived through, but summarizing a badly made disaster movie.
A sudden chill spread through my heart.
My voice trembled. “Adrian, I was really scared up there.”
But Adrian had already risen to his feet.
He started toward his study, leaving me with a single sentence.
“What matters is that you’re all right.”
I was all right.
Was that all?
I had just barely escaped with my life.
I stared hard at Adrian’s face, trying to find even the faintest trace of lingering fear, concern, or tenderness.
There was nothing.
It felt as though an invisible hand had closed around my heart and squeezed until I could barely breathe.
I stepped in front of him and asked, almost pleading, “Do you really have to read those journals right now?”
“Adrian, I almost died on my way here to see you. Why can’t you comfort me?”
“Did you ever stop to think about what would’ve happened if the plane had gone down…”
In the darkness, Adrian looked faintly exasperated.
He gently moved my hand aside.
“Claire,” he said softly, “the odds of a plane crash are extremely low.”
The boyfriend I had missed day and night was only a few steps away.
And yet, I had never felt more alone.
I sat on the couch for what felt like hours, numb and hollow.
In the dim living room, my phone cast a faint glow. I opened my notes and found the lines I had written in the grip of sheer terror.
“Mom, Dad, I love you. If there’s another life after this one, I hope I can be your daughter again and repay you for everything you’ve done for me.”
Chapter 3
“My dearest Adrian, I love you. If I survive this, let’s get married.”
A few minutes ago, I had almost reached this part of the story, the part where I had written what might have become my final words.
Those notes really could have been the last thing I ever left behind.
But Adrian had cut me off as though it were nothing.
Because he needed to read his medical journals.
Of course his work mattered.
But did he really have to read them tonight?
I couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed how shaken I still was. As a doctor, he could sense a patient’s fears before surgery and reassure them in a gentle voice.
Why couldn’t he see my fear?
Was he truly unable to see it, or was he simply choosing not to?
Of course I knew that the chances of dying in a plane crash were lower than the chances of dying in a car accident. And yes, I had made it home without a scratch.
But that didn’t mean I hadn’t been terrified.
Tonight, of all nights, I needed him.
When I had believed I was about to die, he had been the person I couldn’t bear to leave behind.
Surely I had the right to ask him for a few comforting words.
Was that really so difficult?
It shouldn’t have been.
Adrian could soothe even the most demanding patients. I was far easier to comfort. How could he possibly fail with me?
With that thought, I pushed open the door to his study, fully intending to demand a few sweet words from him.
But Adrian, who had claimed he needed to read, was on the phone with someone.
A young woman’s clear, soft voice came through the speaker, trembling with sobs.
“Dr. Whitmore, I’m scared.”
Adrian answered quietly, “You don’t have to be afraid.”
“I’m here.”
Don’t be afraid.
I’m here.
The few simple words I had begged for and failed to receive came so easily when my boyfriend was speaking to another woman.
A violent shudder ran through me, and my breathing turned ragged.
I knew I shouldn’t interrupt his conversation with someone else.
But at that moment, all the blood rushed to my head. I couldn’t think about anything else.
I lunged forward and snatched the phone from his hand. “Who are you telling not to be afraid?”
His calm eyes met mine.
Adrian took a step back and ended the call.
I stared at his face as tears spilled uncontrollably down my cheeks. “Who is she? Why were you telling her not to be afraid?”
Adrian rubbed the space between his brows, as though my questions were exhausting him.
“Claire, stop making a scene.”
“I’m performing a complicated operation next week. My surgical partner is new, and it’ll be her first time in the operating room. She’s so nervous she’s been crying all night.”
“As the lead surgeon, what’s wrong with reassuring her beforehand?”