Shifting Trust
“Alright, time to take off,” Ethan announced, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Buckle up, everyone.”
I gaped, my nerves crashing over my gut. It was quite anti-climatic. Why? Because I guessed whatever they discussed would be passed on to me considering I was the topic of discussion. I scoffed to myself. As I thought, I'd have to fish out information myself.
I miss home already. No matter what my family could have been hiding from me, at least they made sure to let me feel loved in the middle. Right now, I felt like a chore. Everyone was having a hard time figuring out how to start.
The sound of seatbelts clicking into place echoed in the cabin as I did the same. I didn’t know if it was the fact that they were all hiding something or if it was just Ethan’s unsettling presence, but I was feeling dizzy with anxiety.
The plane began to rumble as it started its ascent, and my stomach churned with the rising motion. A sense of vertigo settled over me as the air grew thinner, making everything feel distant and unfocused. I doubted it was the tension anymore.
Perhaps it was the plane. As I thought about it, I realized that in the middle of all the rush, I hadn't considered what it would be like actually flying. After all, it was my first time.
I tightened my grip on the armrest, my fingers digging into the frigid, firm leather material. It crumbled under my touch, but I couldn't bring myself to look at it, too distracted by the rush of dizziness sweeping over me. My vision blurred, and the plane’s subtle tilting made the room spin in slow circles.
I tried to steady myself, but my body felt heavy like the air was pulling me down and dragging my lungs with it. My heart thumped against my chest, faster and faster, as I fought against the disorientation.
I breathed in deeply, but the air seemed to be getting thinner and heavier. Was it normal? Was I going to pass out? I wasn't sure, but I held on to the armchair for dear life for minutes.
When the plane finally leveled out, the spinning stopped. My head felt clearer, but I could still feel the lingering effects of the vertigo in my stomach.
“I don’t feel good,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper as I reached for the seatbelt to unbuckle it.
I tried to push myself up, but the moment my feet touched the floor, everything swayed, and my legs buckled. I fell back into the seat with a sharp, embarrassed gasp.
Almost instantly, Someone was at my side. Catching the whiff of sandalwood, I knew it was Ethan. I glanced at him and caught the subtle worried furrow on his brows. He didn’t waste a second.
“Let me help,” he said quietly, offering his hand. There was no hesitation in his movements and it felt weird. In my pack, I'd just be ignored and laughed at for being weak.
“You need to lie down,” he stated; however, it was clear to hear the underlying order in his statement.
I opened my mouth to refuse, but the words caught in my throat. I didn’t want to make a scene again, especially not with everyone watching, but the room still felt like it was tilting, and my body wasn’t cooperating.
Ethan leaned closer, his voice low, almost soothing, though it was laced with a certain command. “You’re not well. Come with me. I’ll take you to the sleeping cabin.”
I hesitated, but the concern in his voice, something I hadn’t expected to hear from him, made me pause. I nodded weakly, allowing him to assist me as I slowly stood. His touch was warm and gentle, a glaring contrast to Higan. Despite my embarrassment, something was calming about his proximity.
As Ethan guided me down the narrow aisle, I couldn’t help but wonder what exactly I meant to these people. They were being so nice, and I feared If I got used to it, it would break me when they changed their minds about me.
The walls were paneled with dark wood with sleek metal finishes, exuding understated luxury. He pushed open a door, revealing a private chamber with a compact but cozy bed lined with soft, dark gray blankets.
“Sit,” he instructed gently, helping me lower onto the edge of the bed. His hands lingered just long enough to ensure I wouldn’t collapse again before stepping back.
The room felt still and quiet compared to the tense atmosphere outside. I let out a shaky breath, my fingers brushing over the cool fabric of the blanket.
“You should lay down,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’re technically still recovering. I'll stay till you sleep.”
I nodded faintly but couldn’t ignore the unease still curling in my chest. “You don’t have to.”
“I know,” he replied, surprising me by settling into a small armchair near the wall. His posture remained alert like he was ready to jump to action at a moment’s notice. “But I will.”
His calm insistence unsettled me differently not because I feared him at that moment, but because I didn’t know what to make of his steady presence. He didn’t seem like someone who stayed for others out of obligation.
“I don’t get it…” I admitted quietly, my voice trembling despite myself. “Why are you all being... nice to me?”
His brow furrowed, but he didn’t look away. “What do you mean?”
I swallowed, feeling suddenly exposed. “People like me... we don’t get treated like this. Back home, I was just... there. An omega.” The word left a bitter taste in my mouth. “We’re... expendable.”
His expression darkened, though his voice remained calm. “You’re not expendable.”
I scoffed lightly, my gaze falling to my trembling hands. “It’s just... hard to believe.”
Ethan shifted, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward, his eyes locked on mine with startling intensity. “You’re not with them anymore. You’re with us now.”
I wanted to believe him, and I did. But doubt clung stubbornly to me. After I'd grown used to my years of being dismissed and overlooked.
“I’m... tired,” I whispered. The adrenaline that had kept me going was long gone, leaving only exhaustion in its place.
His expression softened, the hard edge in his features fading just enough to reveal something almost gentle. “Rest. I’ll be here.”
For once, I didn’t argue. My body betrayed me, sinking into the softness of the blankets. My eyes fluttered shut and I felt myself drifting.
They would leave me soon. I let the thought brew just in case.