(Diana's Point Of View)
The airport's transit lounge was less crowded than the rest of the facility, which was bustling with activity.
I sat on one of the chairs, a flight ticket to California, Los Angeles. Well, she didn't tell me where she wanted to land.
I repeatedly patted my feet on the ground to maintain my composure, but the longer I waited, the tenser I became because the flight would depart in 30 minutes and she still wasn't there.
Did she change her mind? Oh, please let her not, please.
I tried to find any figure that might stand out as I scanned the area, but I was constantly let down. I sighed in defeat, and just when I dropped my head, a hand suddenly fell on my shoulder, my head bolted up and I jolted up to my feet at the sight of Mrs. Evans, I could barely
