Without thinking, I slip my hand into his—and just like that, the pain recedes. I mount the first step, leaning on him more than I need to. Another step. Another. He helps me up the rest of the flight of stairs and into the belly of the plane.
He guides me down the aisle, the air surging with the scent of jasmine and leather, then coaxes me into one seat and takes the seat opposite. The window beckons, huge and inviting, but Kolya keeps his eyes fixed on me.
As the stewardess runs through takeoff instructions, he looks at me.
As the pilot chirps our itinerary over the intercom, he looks at me.
As the engines roar to life and the wheels begin to turn and we accelerate down the runway, faster and faster, lifting off into the air, he looks at me.
Until at last, we break out over the sea
