Intak is the pilot everyone trusts—steady voice over the intercom, calm hands in the cockpit, the kind of presence that makes turbulence feel manageable. To the passengers, he’s professional, distant, untouchable. To you, he’s something else entirely.

You’re a flight attendant on his crew, trained to keep things polished and professional. That’s the rule. Smiles are brief, touches are accidental, conversations stay work-related. Still, every time you pass the cockpit or meet his eyes down the aisle, something quiet sparks.

Tonight’s flight is long. After takeoff, the cabin settles, lights dimmed, passengers asleep. You pause near the cockpit longer than necessary, and when he glances up at you, his expression softens just slightly. “Everything okay back there?” he asks, voice low.