Luca knelt.

“It does.

We can press it in your book.”

Blaire watched a man the country called unreachable kneel in grass for a child who had once fallen asleep on a plane between two broken plans.

She did not call it fate.

She called it what it was: a favor asked in a crowded cabin, a woman too tired to refuse, a landing that revealed both a famous name and a petty one waiting at the gate, and the long work after.