One hand beneath her.
One hand across her back.
And then he whispered,
“Hey, little one.”
Nora cried.
Mason began rocking almost imperceptibly.
“You’re okay.”
Her cries continued.
Then Mason hummed.
Three notes.
A pause.
Four more.
A simple melody.
Nothing Henry recognized immediately.
Mason repeated it.
Again.
Again.
Nora’s crying changed.
The sharp screams became broken whimpers.
Henry froze.
Mason continued humming.
Nora’s fists slowly opened.
Her shoulders loosened.
Twenty seconds later, she stopped crying.
The cabin became so quiet that Henry could hear the engines.
Mason kept rocking her.
Nora blinked up at him.
Then closed her eyes.
Henry could not move.
Elena covered her mouth.
The woman wearing headphones removed them.
Even the doctor in 3A looked over.
Henry whispered,
“How did you do that?”
Mason smiled faintly.
“I didn’t really do anything.”
“You’ve been holding her for thirty seconds.”
Mason looked down at Nora.
“She wasn’t asking for something new.”
He paused.
“I think she was looking for something familiar.”
Henry felt something tighten in his chest.
“What does that mean?”
Mason’s expression changed.
He suddenly seemed older than sixteen.
“She misses her mother.”
Henry stared at him.
The words hit harder than they should have.
“How would you know that?”
Mason stopped rocking for half a second.
Then continued.
“I know what it sounds like when someone realizes a person isn’t coming back.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed.
“What happened to you?”
Mason looked away.
“My mom died when I was thirteen.”
Henry’s anger disappeared.
Mason continued quietly.
“My sister Lily was still a baby. She cried for weeks afterward. Sometimes nothing helped.”
“And that song?”
“My mother used to hum it to her.”
Henry looked at Nora.
“But Nora has never heard it.”
Mason didn’t answer.
Not immediately.
Something passed across his face.
Fear.
Henry noticed.
Before he could question him, Nora shifted.
Mason adjusted her blanket.
A few minutes later, Nora was asleep.
Completely asleep.
Henry took her carefully.
He lowered her into the bassinet.
She didn’t wake.
Henry turned back.
“Thank you.”
Mason nodded.
“No problem.”
He reached for his backpack.
“You’re traveling alone?”
“Yeah.”
“To Zurich?”
“Yes.”
“Family there?”
Mason’s fingers tightened around one backpack strap.
“My little sister.”
Before Henry could ask more, Mason stepped backward.
“I should go back.”
He turned.
The backpack caught on the corner of a seat.
The zipper opened.
A notebook fell out.
Then a charging cable.
Then a photograph.
It landed face-up on the carpet.
Henry automatically bent to pick it up.
He saw Claire.
And stopped breathing.
She looked younger in the picture.
Maybe two years earlier.
Her hair was tied back.
She wore jeans and a gray sweater.
Her arm rested around the shoulders of a much younger Mason.
Both were smiling.
Henry slowly raised his eyes.
Mason had gone completely pale.
“Where did you get this?”
Mason didn’t answer.
Henry looked at the photograph again.
There was no mistaking Claire.
His Claire.
He turned it over.
Four words.
Written in blue ink.
Protect him for me.
Henry knew that handwriting.
He had seen it on birthday cards.
Grocery lists.
Notes taped to his laptop.
The itinerary in his briefcase.
His hands went cold.
“Mason.”
The boy looked trapped.
“Who were you to my wife?”
No one in first class pretended not to listen anymore.
Mason glanced at the sleeping baby.
Then at Henry.
“She told me you didn’t know.”
“Know what?”
“About me.”
The words landed badly.
Henry’s expression hardened.
“What exactly does that mean?”
Mason immediately understood.
“No. Not like that.”
“Then explain.”
Mason took a breath.
“I met Claire three years ago.”
He pulled the backpack closer.
“My mother was sick.”
Henry said nothing.
Mason continued.
“She had cancer. By the end, she was in and out of the hospital all the time. My dad had left years earlier. It was mostly me, my mom and Lily.”
Lily.
The baby sister.
“When Mom had treatments, I watched Lily in the family waiting area. One night Lily wouldn’t stop crying. I was thirteen. I hadn’t slept. I hadn’t eaten since that morning.”
His voice remained steady.
But Henry could see the effort it took.
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