Chapter 1: The Near-Death Landing

Taking a flight to see my long-distance boyfriend was always nerve-wracking, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the turbulence this time. It hit so hard I was shaking so bad I could barely hold my ginger ale, my hands clutching the armrests until my knuckles went white. The nausea was overwhelming, and I threw up horribly, my stomach lurching with every jolt.

Convinced we were going down, I even started typing out my last will and testament on my phone. My hands were slick with sweat as I typed, the plane rattling so hard I could barely hit the right letters. I thanked everyone I could think of—Mom, Dad, my college roommate Sarah, even cranky old Mrs. Chen next door.

When the plane finally landed safely at O’Hare, I could barely stand, my knees jelly-wobbly, like after too many rides at Six Flags. But I was alive. The relief washed over me as the other passengers burst into applause, some hugging total strangers, others wiping away tears. I kept thinking, Rachel, you survived this—maybe the universe owes you some good luck now.

It was past midnight by the time I grabbed an Uber to Nathan’s place in Lincoln Park. He’s a doctor at Northwestern Memorial, always working late, sometimes rolling in at dawn. We walked through his apartment door at almost the same time—me dragging my carry-on, him with his messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

We hadn’t seen each other for two weeks. But when Nathan saw me, all I got was that cool, controlled smile he gave everyone. He washed his hands with the precision of a surgeon and said, "You should rest. I’ve got to read for tomorrow’s conference."

Normally, I’d let him be—read, work, whatever. But after what I’d just been through, I needed him. I dropped my luggage with a thud and ran into his arms, words tumbling out, desperate for him to understand. I told him about the pregnant woman beside me, how I comforted her through the worst of it, and about the cross necklace Emma gave me—maybe that was God watching over me. I babbled, laughed, and cried all at once.

Nathan just sat there, barely touching me, his hand slowly rubbing the armrest like he was deep in thought about something else. Was I being dramatic? Maybe. But all I wanted was for him to look at me like he cared if I lived or died.

"Hey, Nathan, I’m talking to you! I almost died tonight!" I called out, nearly pleading. He blinked slowly, like he was waking from a trance.

"I’m listening," he said. Then, colder: "You done? I need to get back to my reading."

The words "Let’s get married soon" got stuck in my throat, heavy as concrete.

Later, he frowned at me and said, "Why break up? Just because I didn’t chat with you?"

I looked him in the eye and said, "Yes, and I should thank you for that. If I hadn’t left you, I wouldn’t have known there are people who would engrave every word I say into their hearts."