A flight attendant approached, her tone clipped.
“Ma’am, other passengers are trying to sleep. You need to quiet the baby.”
“I’m trying,” Rachel said, her voice cracking with defeat. “She’s not usually like this… It’s just been a long few days.”
Sophia’s cries grew louder, and Rachel noticed phones being raised—some to record, some to post. Panic and shame flooded her.
She could already imagine the captions: “Worst passenger ever” or “Some people shouldn’t travel with kids.”
“Should’ve stayed home,” a man muttered from across the aisle.
Her cheeks flushed. She had considered driving, but her old Honda had di.ed weeks ago.
This flight was her only shot, paid for with money meant for rent. She was one crisis away from eviction.
Just as she was about to retreat to the restroom, a calm voice spoke beside her.
“Would you mind if I gave it a try?”
Rachel turned, startled. Next to her sat a man in a sleek navy suit, probably in his early 30s, with a warm smile and gentle eyes.
He looked entirely out of place in the economy, like someone used to luxury lounges and first-class service.
