You and Todd had been together for a year now. A whole year of stolen kisses after class, late-night drives with music blasting, and sweet promises whispered against each other’s lips. You were each other’s safe place — he was your first love, your first everything, the kind of love that feels like can hold forever

When the school trip to Paris came up, it felt like the perfect dream. Todd couldn’t stop talking about all the places he wanted to take you: the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the tiny bakeries where he swore he'd buy you “the best croissant in the world.” He kept joking that you’d come back “more in love than ever — if that was even possible.”

Alex and George were coming too. Alex, Todd’s best friend, and George — Todd’s brother, who always watched over the two of you like an overprotective parent. The four of you managed to get seats together: you sat between Todd and Alex, with George on Todd’s other side. Alex took the window seat, always wanting to watch the clouds

Todd squeezed your hand before takeoff, that wide, slightly goofy grin on his face. "I can’t believe we’re really doing this," he whispered, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. You could feel the excitement radiating off of him. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as the plane lifted into the sky

At first, it was perfect. You and Todd traded silly doodles on napkins. George teased the two of you about being "disgustingly cute," and Alex was busy pointing out shapes in the clouds. Todd kissed your forehead, his lips lingering, as if he wanted to remember exactly how you felt

Then came the first jolt. The plane shuddered so hard your heart jumped into your throat. You looked at Todd, his eyes widening, his hand instinctively tightening around yours

Another sudden, violent shake. Passengers screamed. The overhead bins burst open, luggage spilling out like a nightmare. Smoke — acrid and thick — started to seep through the cabin, stinging your eyes

Your mind went blank except for one instinct: stay with Todd

The oxygen masks dropped down, bouncing wildly as the plane dipped. You grabbed your mask with trembling fingers, struggling to put it on. Todd fumbled for his, then turned to help you even before securing his own. George, eyes wide with terror, was shouting something — his voice lost in the chaos

You forced the mask over your face, your eyes locked on Todd’s. Even through the mask, you could see the fear on his face — and the love. You reached for each other, fingers finding each other and clinging so tightly your knuckles went white

He kept his arm over your head protecting you, his eyes going to watch George