The boy paused, then asked the question she dreaded: “When will he come back?”
“Not for a while, sweetie. He has a tough job,” she said quietly, barely holding back tears.
In that moment, Emily felt a strange relief that James had distanced himself from Ethan in recent years. Maybe, in time, Ethan would stop asking about him. But how would she cope with her own pain?
Emily was torn by mixed emotions. She still loved James. Now that he was gone forever, she couldn’t forgive herself for thinking of divorce. Flipping through their family photo album, she recalled their best moments—snowmobile rides, laughter, love.
She closed the album. The brief calm faded, and a wave of grief gripped her heart. To avoid breaking down, she focused on her son’s peace. She wanted to run, scream, call someone, demand they keep searching for James, but reason held her back. What would it change?
Each time her thoughts returned to that horrific accident, she remembered how skilled James was on a snowmobile. He knew it like the back of his hand, yet something went wrong. To calm her nerves, she took some valerian and lay down, but sleep wouldn’t come.
Time passed. James was declared dead, though his body was never found. Arthur kept his promise: he helped with inheritance paperwork, provided financial support, and even offered Emily a remote job. It allowed her to balance work and caring for Ethan. But she couldn’t accept her loss.
Three years later, a website ad flashed on her screen—a smiling woman holding tickets and a sign reading “Happy Family Vacation.” Emily sighed heavily and clicked “Buy.” It was her first step toward change. “Ethan!” she called loudly. “We’re going on vacation next week!”
It was time to stop being the widow whose husband first betrayed her and then tragically died. Emily resolved to learn to live again. The week flew by, and soon she and Ethan were at the airport, waiting to board. The last time she’d been here was years ago with James, when they sent Ethan to his grandma’s and flew to Miami for a getaway.
Memories flooded back, but Emily pushed them away. She gripped Ethan’s hand and headed to the departure gate. In the waiting area, she scanned the crowd: a group of teens laughed at a video, two elderly women flipped through newspapers. Nearby, a couple sat—a young woman around 25 and a man in a wide-brimmed hat, animatedly talking, though the woman seemed engrossed in her phone. Emily decided not to linger on them and checked her own phone.
When boarding was announced, Emily and Ethan took their seats.
“Ethan, this is your first real flight!” she said cheerfully, as he settled by the window.
“Awesome, Mom, it’s so cool we’re flying together!” he beamed. Emily froze for a moment, realizing this was their first flight alone. She sighed with relief, noting Ethan didn’t remember his last flight at barely two years old.
Back then, James had held Ethan, and they’d watched the clouds together. Now, those memories faded, and Emily resolved to move forward. She called a flight attendant, asked for water, and tried to sleep.
“Mom, I need the bathroom,” Ethan woke her.
“I’ll take you.”
“Mom, I’m big now, I’m eight! I can find it myself. The flight attendant showed us where it is. I’ll ask if I need help.”
She watched him confidently stride to the front of the plane, where a flight attendant kindly pointed to the restroom. Assured he was fine, Emily relaxed and gazed out the window. The flight was smooth, cruising at altitude, when the captain’s voice interrupted her thoughts:
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re approaching a turbulent area. Please remain calm; it’s normal and will pass in a minute.”