Kayla, mourning the recent loss of her grandmother, was about to head home after the funeral, unaware of the nightmare awaiting her on the flight. Mistaken for someone else, Kayla had to rely on her wits to navigate the trouble she found herself in.
Exhausted from days of grieving, I longed to collapse into my own bed. Six months pregnant and emotionally drained from my grandmother’s funeral, I needed rest.
The funeral was tough, a poignant farewell to a woman who had been my rock throughout my life.
“Are you sure you want to leave today?” my mother asked as I packed my suitcase. “You can wait a few days if you need to just sit with this loss.”
I smiled at her sadly. “I know, but I need to get back to work and back to Colin. You know my husband barely manages without me.”
“It’s probably good for you to return to your comfort zone,” she said. “But your dad and I will stay until the end of the week to sort out Gran’s house and finalize anything that needs to be done. I know Dad can’t wait to get home.”
“I just wish Gran could have been around to see the baby,” I said, rubbing my belly. “That’s what I’ve wanted all along.”
“I know, honey,” my mother said. “I wish you and Gran could have had that moment, but at least you were here when she needed you most.”
Navigating the long lines at the airport, I hated flying, but it was easier than driving home. I couldn’t handle a twelve-hour car ride with my bladder constantly fighting me.
Finally, I boarded the plane, ready for the journey back to my husband.
“I’ll take that, ma’am,” a flight attendant said, reaching for my bag.
“Thank you,” I replied, settling into my seat, my body aching for rest.
“Oh, I hate flying,” the woman next to me said. “It’s the worst. But I hate driving too. I should have just stayed home.”
I almost laughed because I completely agreed. Turbulence made me feel uneasy and anxious, as though I was losing control with each jolt.
As I sat back, ready for takeoff, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was staring at me. Turning around, I noticed a man a few rows behind, intently watching me. His gaze was unsettling, but I dismissed him as someone judging a pregnant woman for traveling.
The hum of the engines became a soothing background noise as the plane began its ascent.
“Finally,” the woman beside me said. “Let’s just get home.”
Little did I know, a nightmare was about to unfold.
Ten minutes into the flight, a flight attendant approached me with a stern expression. “Excuse me, ma’am. Could you please come with me?” she asked, her perfume overwhelming.
Reluctantly, I unbuckled my seatbelt and followed her to the area near the bathroom. Immediately, her demeanor changed.
“You need to get on your knees immediately!” she commanded, nodding to someone I couldn’t see.
“What? Why? What happened?” I exclaimed, completely shocked.
“Now,” she said simply.
Shocked and confused, I complied. As I knelt, I couldn’t understand what was happening. I hadn’t done anything wrong.
The man who had been staring at me earlier approached. “Where is the golden necklace you stole?” he demanded, his voice threatening.
“What are you talking about? I didn’t steal anything! I’m just returning from my grandmother’s funeral!” I protested.
He made a clucking sound and produced a set of photographs and documents. “This is you at the museum two days before the exhibit was moved to the hotel. This is you at the hotel foyer where the necklace went missing. We tracked you to this plane after you ran away from the hotel.”
I looked at the pictures. They were hazy but bore a striking resemblance to me, though there were clear differences.
“Look,” I said, pointing to my wrist. “The woman in these photos has a tattoo or scar on her wrist. Look! I don’t have anything like that!”
The man examined my wrists, his icy hands pulling roughly. “See? No tattoos. No scars. Nothing. You have the wrong person!” I insisted. “And I’m pregnant! The woman in the photos isn’t!”
I felt a sudden wave of fear for my baby. In the heat of the moment, my baby lay still.
