THE STRANGER NEXT TO ME

Ava stood at the airport, trembling. Not from the cold blast of the air-conditioning or the bustle of travelers rushing past her with rolling suitcases and clipped conversations—but from the weight crushing her chest. Her vision blurred as tears streamed freely down her face, soaking into the collar of her cream blouse. She didn’t bother wiping them away. She was far past caring how she looked. Heartbroken didn’t even begin to describe it. It felt as though something vital had been torn out of her, leaving behind a hollow ache that echoed with disbelief. Just hours ago, she had believed she knew her life. Believed she knew him. Now, everything felt like a cruel illusion. “Ava?” She flinched when the voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. “Yes?” she replied hoarsely, stepping closer to the airline counter. The flight attendant—neatly dressed, professional, and detached—glanced at her screen and then back at Ava with an apologetic smile. “Ma’am, I’m afraid there are only business class seats available on the next flight out.” Ava blinked. “Business class?” “Yes. Economy is fully booked.” Her heart sank further. She let out a shaky breath and looked down at her phone, her fingers tightening around it. Business class was expensive—very expensive. Ava had never flown business class in her life. It was a luxury she never imagined indulging in, not on a modest salary and certainly not under circumstances like this. “I… I see,” she murmured. The attendant waited patiently, clearly used to travelers hesitating at prices they hadn’t anticipated. Ava swallowed hard. She needed to leave this city. Desperately. Every corner of it screamed his name, every street whispered memories she couldn’t bear to relive. Staying meant suffocating. Leaving—no matter the cost—was the only option. Her phone buzzed violently in her hand, startling her. She didn’t need to look at the screen to know who it was. Still, her traitorous fingers lifted the phone. Ray Calling… Her chest constricted. The buzzing stopped, only to resume seconds later—relentless, insistent. A message followed. Baby, I’m sorry. I can explain, babe. Please. Where are you? Ava, listen to me. Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you. Her lips trembled as she read the words. Once, they would have melted her defenses instantly. Once, she would have believed every promise, every plea. Once, Ray had been her safe place. But that was before she saw the truth. Before betrayal stared her in the face with no room for excuses. Ava shut her eyes tightly, inhaling as deeply as her lungs would allow. The scent of polished floors and coffee drifted through the terminal, grounding her in the present. “No,” she whispered. She opened his contact, her thumb hovering for a moment—hesitating. Memories flashed through her mind: shared laughter, late-night conversations, whispered dreams of a future she had foolishly believed was guaranteed. Her jaw hardened. With one decisive motion, she blocked his number. The screen went blank. Silence. A hollow silence that hurt—but also, strangely, relieved. She needed to leave the city. Tonight. Before doubt could creep in and weaken her resolve. “I can’t do this,” she muttered under her breath, more to the ghost of what they had been than to the man he truly was. She turned back to the counter. “I’ll take it.” The flight attendant’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “Very well, ma’am.” Moments later, Ava tapped her card against the machine. The quiet beep sounded impossibly loud to her ears—final, irreversible. Transaction approved. A business class ticket. A one-way escape. As the attendant handed her boarding pass, Ava forced a polite smile. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome. Boarding begins shortly.” Clutching the ticket, Ava stepped away from the counter. Her legs felt weak, as though she might collapse at any moment. She glanced at her reflection in a nearby glass panel and barely recognized herself. Her eyes were red and swollen. Mascara streaked her cheeks like war paint from a battle she hadn’t chosen. Her hair—normally neat—hung limply around her shoulders. She looked exactly how she felt: shattered. She couldn’t board like this. Taking a steadying breath, Ava headed toward the restroom. The quiet corridor felt like a temporary refuge from the chaos of the terminal. As she walked, she replayed the events of the day against her will—every raised voice, every damning revelation, every excuse that fell apart under scrutiny. By the time she reached the restroom entrance, fresh tears blurred her vision again. She pushed the door open, her mind elsewhere. Boom. The collision came out of nowhere. Ava gasped as her body slammed into someone solid. Papers flew into the air like startled birds, fluttering to the ground. A cup tipped, and hot coffee splashed downward, staining fabric. “Oh my God—I’m so sorry, I didn’t see—” Ava began breathlessly. “Are you sick?” a shrill voice cut her off. Ava froze. The woman standing before her was impeccably dressed—designer suit, flawless makeup, perfectly styled hair. Coffee splattered across the front of her expensive dress, marring its pristine appearance. The woman’s face twisted in fury. “I—I didn’t mean to,” Ava stammered, panic rising. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m really sorry, I’ll—” “Thwack!” The sound echoed sharply through the corridor. Ava’s head snapped to the side as pain exploded across her cheek. For a split second, she didn’t even realize what had happened. The sting came next—hot, humiliating, shocking. The woman—Jasmine—had slapped her. Gasps erupted from nearby onlookers. Ava stood frozen, her hand slowly rising to her cheek. Her skin burned, her eyes wide with disbelief. She had been slapped—publicly—for an accident. “How dare you?” Jasmine snapped, her eyes blazing. “Do you know how much this dress costs?” “I’m sorry,” Ava whispered, her voice barely audible. Tears welled again, but this time from humiliation rather than heartbreak. “I didn’t mean—” “That’s not good enough!” Jasmine shouted. “People like you are always careless.” The words sliced deep. “Jasmine.” The voice was deep. Commanding. It carried authority that silenced the murmurs instantly. Jasmine stiffened. Ken stepped forward from a short distance away, his tall frame casting a long shadow. His presence was impossible to ignore—sharp suit, composed demeanor, eyes dark with restrained anger. “Jasmine, how dare you?” he thundered. She spun toward him. “Sir, she spilled coffee on my dress!” she retorted defensively. “She ran into me like some kind of—” Ken lifted a hand, cutting her off. His gaze shifted to Ava. For a brief moment, their eyes met. Ava felt strangely exposed under his scrutiny, as though he could see every crack in her carefully constructed composure. His expression softened slightly, the anger in his eyes replaced by something else—concern, perhaps. “Hey, miss,” he began, his voice calmer now. “I’m really sor—” “It’s fine, sir,” Ava interrupted hastily. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t stand there any longer. Couldn’t bear the attention, the humiliation, the ache pounding in her chest. Before either of them could respond, she turned and dashed into the washroom. The door swung shut behind her. Inside, the world narrowed to tiled walls, fluorescent lights, and the sound of her own ragged breathing. Ava stumbled toward the sink and gripped its edges tightly, her knuckles turning white. She stared at her reflection. The red mark on her cheek was already visible. Her tears finally spilled over. She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a sob as her body shook violently. Everything felt like too much—the betrayal, the flight, the slap, the strangers, the loneliness. She had never felt so small. Never felt so alone. Unbeknownst to her, outside the washroom, Ken stood perfectly still, his jaw clenched. Jasmine’s protests fell on deaf ears as his gaze lingered on the closed door Ava had disappeared through. Something about her—her brokenness, her quiet dignity even in humiliation—had struck a chord he hadn’t felt in years. And in that fleeting, accidental collision, fate had already begun to shift.