STORM JESS

The TV cast a dim glow over the apartment as I sat beside Laura, clutching the remote so tightly my fingers were numb. The news channel's monotonous voice was barely audible over the drumming of Laura's nails on the coffee table. Each tap echoed louder than the last counting down to the next breaking update.

We'd been watching the same footage for the last hour:

Blurry shots of rain-lashed skies

Wind-bending palm trees

Waterlogged streets swallowing entire neighborhoods

Luke's plane was somewhere out there-right in the heart of the storm. I swallowed the tightness in my throat and forced a reassuring smile.

"They're fine, Laura," I whispered, reaching over to still her hand. "They're probably rerouted, or they'll land somewhere safe until the weather clears up. It's just... just a delay."

Laura's eyes were wide, unblinking, locked on the screen. "A delay? Jess, look at that!" She pointed at the looping footage, her voice quivering. "They're saying this storm is... it's one of the worst in years. And-and they were heading right into it." My gut twisted at her words, and I took a shaky breath. I had to

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for her. "Planes deal with these things all the time. They wouldn't take any chances with

wavering. "You don't understand. I tried calling the airport, Jess. They... they wouldn't tell me anything. Just kept saying they didn't have the information I was

nodded, trying to keep my tone level. "They'll call as soon as they know something, I promise. Airports are always cautious about giving

the news. "You're right," she mumbled, barely a whisper, but I could see

I almost threw

fear was curling inside me like smoke, dark and toxic, threatening to choke me. But I couldn't fall apart. Not

Laura's hand, gripping it tightly. "They'll be fine, okay? They'll walk through that door with a million stories

but at least it was something. "Josh would do that," she whispered, wiping her eyes. "He'd make

clutching onto that image like a

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when things went south. But the image slipped, replaced by the thought of him. somewhere out there, fighting for control in a jet being tossed by the storm. I took a shaky breath, feeling the tears I'd been holding back start to press

TV cut to a breaking news segment, and Laura's head snapped up. A local reporter stood in front of a soaked airfield, her raincoat plastered to her body by the relentless downpour. Behind her, airport personnel scurried about, their faces tense. "We're getting reports now that flights scheduled to land in

a good thing." Laura's face crumpled as she buried it in her hands. "What

her shoulders, holding her tightly. "No," I said, with a conviction I barely felt. "They

enough to give me

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