Not a pat. Not a bounce. A calm, steady rhythm.
He hummed, not a song anyone would recognize, more like a memory of a lullaby.
Sofia blinked. One last shuddering breath. Then quiet.
The entire cabin seemed to exhale.
Raya stared. Her mouth opened, then closed again because no words fit.
“How did you do that?” she finally breathed, like she’d just watched a magician pull a rabbit out of her broke, exhausted life.
“Practice,” he said simply. “Babies are honest. They know when you’re panicking.”
Raya swallowed, feeling exposed. Because yes, she had been panicking. She had been trying to hold herself together so tightly she was practically cracking.
The flight attendant glanced over, surprised. Her expression softened by a millimeter.
“There we go,” she said, and kept walking, as if the crisis had been solved by a man’s hands and therefore could be forgotten.
Raya’s stomach knotted at the unfairness of that, but she didn’t have the energy to fight reality tonight.
The man looked down at Sofia with the faintest smile.
“What’s her name?” he asked.
“Sofia,” Raya said. “Sofia Morales.”
He nodded, as if he wanted to remember it.
“I’m… Cole,” he said after a brief pause.
Raya blinked. Something about him felt familiar, like a face you’d seen on a billboard while waiting at a bus stop. But her brain was too tired to chase it.
“You don’t look like you fly economy,” Raya said, surprising herself.
Cole’s lips twitched. “You’d be amazed what people assume about seats.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the closest thing to one I’m giving,” he replied, and there was humor in it, but restrained, like he didn’t want to accidentally sound like he was flirting.
Raya looked at her baby sleeping peacefully in his arms. The relief in her chest was so intense it hurt.
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