“That’s my son,” she said quietly.
Leonard glanced at the photo. “Your grandson?”
She closed the locket and fixed her gaze on her hands.
For illustrative purpose only
“I had him when I was 32,” she said. “His father disappeared when I told him I was pregnant. My mother was already gone by then, lost to dementia. I tried to manage, but it became clear that I could not give my baby the life he deserved.”
Leonard swallowed. “So you gave him up?”
“I gave him up for adoption,” she said. “It was the hardest thing I have ever done.”
They sat in silence. The steady hum of the plane filled the space between them.
“I found him years later,” Eleanor continued. “A kind neighbor helped me use email, and I took one of those DNA tests. I wrote to him. He answered once and said he was doing well. After that, he stopped responding.”
Leonard frowned. “Then why are you on this flight?”
“He’s the pilot,” she said. “Today is his birthday. I knew I might not get another chance. This was the closest I could be to him.”
Leonard felt his chest tighten.
“I don’t expect anything,” Eleanor added. “I just wanted to be near him. That’s enough.”
Unbeknownst to her, a nearby flight attendant had overheard the conversation. Quietly, she slipped into the cockpit.
The hours passed more quickly than Eleanor expected. As the plane prepared to land, the intercom crackled to life. The pilot’s voice filled the cabin.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “we will be arriving at JFK shortly.”
There was a brief pause.
Gasps rippled through the cabin. Eleanor’s eyes filled with tears.
When the plane touched down, the cockpit door opened. The pilot, a tall man with kind eyes, walked straight toward her and ignored protocol.
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