The applause faded into a warm, respectful hum as the crew finished their checks.

Up front, the gate agent slipped away down the jetbridge without meeting anyone’s eyes.

The corporate passenger sat buried three rows back, staring at his lap.

Beside me, Nia pressed her nose to the window, watching the runway lights slide past as the engines roared.

Her small hand stayed anchored in mine.

“Daddy?” she whispered over the rising hum.