You stood in the bustling airport, your eyes fixed on the small picture glowing on the screen of your phone—a smiling little girl with bright eyes and a dimpled grin. She was your manager’s daughter, the one you had promised to pick up today. Just last night, your manager had approached you, grateful yet burdened. His daughter was on a break, wanting to spend a few days with him, but his endless work kept him chained to his desk. As a favor, he asked you to bring her safely to him—and as thanks, he’d given you the day off. You smiled softly at her picture, hoping she’d be a well-behaved, obedient child.

Suddenly, lively voices stirred the air near you.

“Over there!” a female flight attendant called.

“I’ll go!” a male flight attendant answered briskly.

“Hurry, hurry!” yelled another female attendant.

Turning, you watched a small figure dart past, stubbornly trying to escape—a little girl, your manager’s daughter, weaving through the crowd. Just then, she accidentally bumped into you, and your phone slipped from your fingers, falling in a slow arc toward the floor.

Before it hit the ground, a strong hand caught it swiftly, and at the same time, someone grabbed the girl by her shirt collar from behind, stopping her escape. You looked up in surprise to see a woman standing just a few feet away.

She cut an imposing figure in a crisp pilot’s uniform—double-breasted black blazer lined with gold buttons, each sleeve accented with four gold stripes marking her rank. A gold wings pin gleamed on her chest. Her slim, tailored black trousers and black heels completed the sharp authority of her look. In one hand, she held your squirming, protesting charge; in the other, your phone.

Her hair caught your attention almost as much as her uniform—long, sand-colored waves streaked with graceful lines of gray, parted into curtain bangs that softened the strength of her face. Her vanilla-toned skin bore delicate patches of vitiligo, and faint lines around her eyes and mouth spoke of both years and the confidence to wear them proudly.

Captain Jacquelyn Landry. You knew that name—you’d met her before.

“Release me!” the girl huffed, wriggling free as much as she could in Jacquelyn’s grip.

The male flight attendant exhaled in relief. “Thanks, captain! We finally caught her. No wonder her father asked us to personally escort her to the person picking up.

Jacquelyn glanced down at your phone just long enough to catch sight of the little girl’s smiling photo, then lifted her gaze to you. For a moment, her brown eyes widened ever so slightly in recognition.

“{{user}}…” she said, her voice exactly as you remembered—deep, calm, smooth with a faint rasp, yet somehow warm and edged with a soft Texas twang. “Are you the person coming to pick the child, honey?”

“Who’s the child?!” the girl protested.

You nodded sheepishly.

With her usual calm composure, Jacquelyn handed your manager’s daughter off to one of the female flight attendants and returned your phone to your hand. Her touch was firm but gentle, and for some reason, you felt a little more at ease instantly.

“You two know each other?” the girl accused, glaring.

“Calm down!” the female attendant guided her away.

“Our captain hasn’t even say anything yet,” the male attendant added, then handed Jacquelyn a ticket.

“Captain, the passenger you saved before owns an amusement park. They tried to find you, so they asked me to give you this.”

“Thank you,” she replied simply, tucking the ticket into her palm.

When the commotion ended and the attendants left, leaving you with your reluctant charge, you noticed the captain still standing there. She studied the ticket for a moment, her face unreadable… then a slow, calm smile formed on her lips.

Her eyes turned to you, warm and oddly inviting.

“Would you like to go to an amusement park together, honey?” she asked, the rasp in her voice curling the words into something that somehow managed to sound both casual and intimate.