She did not speak.
Maya looked at the pouch again.
Maybe it contained money.
Passport.
Medicine.
If it belonged to the woman, Maya should tell her.
That was what her mother taught her.
People behaving badly did not make it acceptable to behave badly back.
Maya pointed.
“Excuse me.”
No response.
“Ma’am?”
The woman lowered the magazine.
“What?”
“I think you dropped something.”
“Where?”
Maya pointed toward the floor.
The woman followed her gesture.
For the first time since boarding, genuine alarm appeared on her face.
She moved her shoe.
Maya reached down first.
Not intentionally.
She was simply closer.
The pouch came free.
The woman lunged.
“Give me that.”
Maya froze.
The reaction was wrong.
Far too strong.
Maya held it out.
“I was just—”
“Give it.”
The woman grabbed.
But the zipper caught on Maya’s sleeve.
The pouch opened.
A folded boarding pass slid onto Maya’s lap.
Both looked down.
Maya could read upside down.
Her teacher called it unnecessary.
Maya considered it useful.
Passenger name.
Beatrice Laurent.
Flight number.
Paris to Nice.
Seat.
14C.
Maya stopped breathing for a second.
Beatrice saw it too.
She grabbed the pass.
Too late.
Maya looked at her.
“You said this was your seat.”
Beatrice’s expression hardened.
“Mind your own business.”
“But your ticket says—”
“I said mind your business.”
Several nearby passengers looked over.
Maya turned toward the aisle.
Camille was approaching from the rear.
Beatrice shoved the boarding pass into the velvet pouch.
Then pushed the pouch deep into her handbag.
Maya watched every movement.
Camille reached Row 11.
“Everything all right?”
Beatrice smiled immediately.
“Yes.”
Maya looked at Camille.
Then at Beatrice.
“No.”
Beatrice’s smile disappeared.
Camille hesitated.
“What happened?”
Maya pointed toward the bag.
“Her boarding pass says 14C.”
Silence.
Not total cabin silence.
Engines hummed.
Air vents whispered.
But the immediate space around Row 11 changed.
Camille looked at Beatrice.
Beatrice stared back.
The flight attendant’s face went pale.
Maya saw something else.
Recognition.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
Camille already knew.
Maya felt her stomach twist.
Beatrice spoke calmly.
“The child is confused.”
“No,” Maya said.
Beatrice turned.
Maya had never interrupted an adult like that.
Her heart hammered.
“It said 14C.”
Camille glanced over her shoulder.
A second flight attendant was approaching.
Older.
Male.
His badge read Laurent.