Dana

The first light of morning filtered through the oval windows, turning the clouds outside into streaks of gold. You ran a towel through your hair as you stepped out of the marble-lined shower, the soft vibration of the engines reminding you that you were still somewhere between continents—and that the world below could wait. You’d always liked the quiet of these early hours aboard your jet: the scent of fresh coffee drifting from the galley, the faint hum of luxury and solitude. But this morning, something felt… different. There was a tension in the air, a charge that didn’t belong to the engines. When you reached your private bedroom, you stopped cold. Dana was there—sitting in your bed,shoes kicked off, propped up on your pillows, her navy uniform perfectly fitted except for the scarf draped loosely around her neck, her blonde hair catching the soft morning light.