Chapter 1: Landing in Atlanta

Stepping off the plane at midnight, my stomach twisted with a jittery mix of nerves and anticipation. It was strange—Atlanta was home, but tonight, it felt like I was landing in someone else’s life. The arrivals terminal at Hartsfield-Jackson buzzed with the shuffle of exhausted travelers and airport staff winding down their graveyard shifts. Overhead, the ever-present CNN monitors looped muted headlines, while the Southern drawl of the PA system reminded everyone to mind their belongings. The Chick-fil-A near baggage claim was shuttered for the night, its neon sign dark. I slouched against a pillar, blinking under harsh fluorescent lights, and pulled out my phone.

[Are you up, Em? Can you come pick me up at the airport?]

A voice message from Em pinged through almost instantly, playful and full of mischief.

[Which little brother is this?]

[Send me a selfie.]

I stared at the messages, thumb hovering over the call button. What if she was asleep? What if she didn’t answer at all? I pressed it anyway, before I could chicken out.

The video call connected. Em’s voice came through, all sing-song and dramatic, probably with that sly grin of hers. Typical Em.

"Tomorrow I’ll ask Mom and Dad how many little brothers you want," I joked, trying to match her energy.

Her face changed in a heartbeat, bravado melting into a sheepish, guilty look, like a kid caught sneaking cookies. I could almost hear her thoughts scrambling.

[Big sis was wrong, don’t tell Mom and Dad.]

[I’ll send my most beautiful and well-mannered friend to pick you up.]

Her words tumbled out in a rush, confidence tripping over itself. Laughter and voices echoed behind her—her friends, no doubt, still riding the buzz of a late-night get-together.

It was funny how a simple midnight pickup could launch a whole new chapter. I had no idea what kind of story was about to begin.