Stranger on Flight

Chapter 2✔

Irtaza was having a crappy day. 3 days ago, he had landed in Karachi, and he wasn't liking any of it. Nothing was on the schedule. For him, who loved being in control of everything it wasn't appealing to him. He had to attend an unscheduled meeting, and those associates had the chic to arrive late for it. If there was anything, he hated more than chaos, was unpunctuality of people and he little late jerks found something fashionable about it. It was not fashionable PERIOD! It was disrespectful and completely unprofessional. Long story short, the meeting didn't go well.

His professional life was in chaos while on the social side, his mother had been nagging him to meet this girl who taught at the university. Staring at the mobile screen, he cursed. 30 missed calls from "Amee". Why could his mother not understand that he wasn't interested in that university girl she had shortlisted for him.

He nearly missed his flight thanks to those the unpunctual sloths who had prolonged the meeting. He was still jet lagged, the pathetic window seat with just about zero space for him to stretch his legs was another horror he had to suffer. Times like these he hated being tall. Could it get any worse for him? Yes, it could. He just didn't know that right now.

Plugging his air pods, he played the recitations of Surahs. Something he did when he boarded planes or took actions that could lead to life and death situation. He wasn't afraid of planes, but he couldn't say the same about dying and leaving everything in a mess for his sister and mother. That was something he feared. A LOT.

Irtaza grabbed the newspaper which was folded in the pocket in front of him. He had been away from Pakistan for so long. It was better to get updated on the current affairs then appearing like a complete ignorant foreign return dude, in front of his relatives. He was that but people didn't need to know.

Irtaza was busy going through the criticizing article on the economic policies when he felt someone settle in the seat beside him. The fact that he wasn't the last one to board the plane gave his OCD self, a sense of relief. The Quranic verses which echoed in his head through the air pods calmed him. When they ended, he took out the air pods, placed them in his lap and decided to glance at the person who had been causing disturbance since the arrival.

Looking beside himself, he found a girl with her eyes shut tight, sinking in the fear. She wore a marron khaddar suit with an orange shawl draped around her. Her face was bare of any makeup which came to him as a surprise. What kind of girl goes out without zero makeup? He wondered. More importantly, still managed to look this breathtaking. He didn't know any before, but he did now.

She sure was a pretty sight. With her lashes resting on her cheeks as she squeezed her eyes with fear. Her olive skin wasn't able to hide the red that creeped on her face, and he wondered what was she thinking to have gotten all red? He grunted with disgust when the realization of her being aerophobic sunk. He hated flying with people who were afraid of flights. Because their fear of plane crashing, brought his own fear of death and oblivion on surface. Added to that he hated holding hands with strangers during takeoff and landing. Hand holding to him was personal. Just what I needed. He thought, vexed with the fact that the person sitting beside him was a chatterbox when he was looking for the comfort and solace.

Before he could return back to loathing, the stranger beside him, began whispering. He could perfectly hear what she was saying. She thought they were going to crash in Margalla's. And she regretted booking a flight on PIA. Could he blame her? Yes, he could. She should have gone by road or by rail if she was 'this' afraid of flying.

He would have minded his business like he intended to, but he felt like he had to make certain, that she knew that she was speaking out loud. If his ears were going to suffer, he would make sure that she knew of the discomfort she had been causing.