The cab jolted slightly as it turned out of the neighborhood lane, pulling away from the waving hands, blurry porch lights, and tearful smiles still glowing in the early dawn haze.
Inside the back seat, Arjun stared out the window in silence. Maya, curled against his side, clutched his hand as if anchoring them both from floating away into this surreal new reality.
His phone buzzed again.
Mom (11 Missed Calls)Mom:"If Maya wants that white salwar, it's in the bottom drawer. Also—ALMONDS IN THE BLUE TIN!! Don't eat plane food on empty stomach. Gas."
Arjun sighed. "She's texting me about almonds. Again."
Maya's phone vibrated next.
Mom:"Tell Arjun not to watch violent movies on flight. Subconscious absorbs images while asleep. Dangerous."
"Wow," Maya murmured. "Our moms think the plane is a flying trauma machine."
"She's not wrong," Arjun muttered, suddenly queasy.
Maya glanced at him. "You okay?"
"I just realized I'm about to be sealed into a giant metal bird and flung across the ocean with no parachute."
She smiled. "We'll survive. You've done scarier things."
"Name one."
"I said yes to marrying you."
He gave her a scandalized look. "That's romantic, not scary!"
"It's both."
Just then, a human blur sprinted into the street ahead, leaping dramatically over a pothole and nearly crashing into a milkman.
"STOP THE CAB!!"
The driver slammed the brakes.
A panting, half-dressed Rohit slapped the side window, gasping for breath.
"You were gonna leave without saying goodbye to your blood?" he wheezed.
Arjun rolled the window down. "You were supposed to come last night."
"I fell asleep watching K-drama with dadi."
Maya snorted.
Rohit shoved a squashed envelope through the window. "Here. From my mom. Blessings and—uh—bhindi seeds. Don't ask."
Arjun blinked. "Why bhindi?"
"She says if America rejects you, at least you'll have farming options."
Maya grinned. "Auntie's got backup plans for us."
Rohit saluted. "Be brave. Be successful. And if you find treasure, I want a gold brick. Full size."
The cab pulled away again as Rohit waved furiously behind them. Maya leaned her head back with a sigh.
Arjun exhaled. "Alright. Now we just have to get through the airport alive."
Maya smirked. "Welcome to Level 2 of Marriage: Luggage Tetris."
The airport hit like a tsunami.
Blinding lights. Shouting agents. Massive screens with half-cancelled flights. Screaming kids. Security lines that looped like hungry snakes.
Arjun's first problem: the security scanner.
He stepped in confidently.
BEEEEEP.
The security guy frowned. "Belt. Watch. Pocket?"
Arjun removed his watch. Belt. Then keys. Then wallet. Then—
BEEEEEP.
"Sir," the guard said, peering suspiciously. "You hiding anything else?"
Arjun blinked. "...Protein bar?"
Maya breezed past, grinning. "My husband: Threat Level Protein."
When they reached the check-in counter, their bags were—of course—overweight.
"Twenty-six kilos," the staff said dryly, looking at Arjun's bag. "Sir, the limit is twenty-three."
Arjun gave his most charming smile. "Come on, bhaiya. It's just some halwa. And a few bhindi seeds."
The staff was not impressed.
Maya took over, rolling her eyes and yanking items out: three different hair products, two jackets, a towel (?) and one unopened gift box.
"We'll repack," she growled.
Arjun whispered, "Where's your romance now?"
"In the carry-on," she hissed.
They finally made it to immigration, where a deadpan officer examined Arjun's passport photo.
"You look like a criminal here," he said.
Arjun blinked. "That's just my face!"
Maya laughed so hard she almost choked. "That's his serious face! He practiced it for hours!"
"Too serious," the officer muttered. "Smile next time."
Arjun's eye twitched.
As they walked away, something flickered at the edge of Arjun's vision.
Near Gate 14, a man stood watching them. Not reading. Not scrolling. Just... staring. His coat was long, dark, not quite modern. His hair was shoulder-length, slicked back. And his face—pale, unreadable.
"Hey," Arjun whispered. "See that guy?"
Maya turned, but the man was gone.
"Who?"
He hesitated. "Nothing."
They sat at the gate. Maya opened her bag to find her lip balm—and froze.
Inside the small zip pouch was a folded paper. Not hers. Not from packing.
Written in jagged, crooked handwriting were just five words:
"You are going the wrong way."
She stared at it. "Arjun…"
He read it. "...What the hell."
No signature. No explanation.
"Is this a prank?" she asked.
"I swear I didn't write it. I don't even know how to fold paper like that."
They both looked around. No one nearby was paying attention.
The intercom announced boarding.
Maya slipped the note back into the pouch, zipped it tight.
They walked onto the plane in silence.
Takeoff and Tension
The airport gate speakers crackled to life.
"Flight 7-3-2 to Vienna is now ready for boarding at Gate 14. We apologize for the thirty-minute delay."
Maya stretched her legs. "Finally."
Arjun yawned. "Why are people acting like this plane's the last chopper out of a zombie apocalypse?"
The boarding gate had just opened, and a massive crowd of passengers was already surging forward like floodwater. People elbowed, dragged wheeled bags like they were steering rickshaws in a traffic jam, and barked at each other in four languages.
"I say we wait it out," Arjun said coolly. "Let the stampede pass. Why stand in line when we can sit in peace?"
Maya nodded. "Honeymoon hack #1: Never rush for a seat you already paid for."
So they waited. Ten minutes later, the crowd finally thinned out. A few families were still struggling with toddlers and neck pillows the size of inner tubes, but otherwise, the chaos had boarded.
Arjun and Maya walked down the jet bridge, hand in hand.
"Seat 3A and 3B," Maya said, checking the boarding pass. "Front row. Nice."
But when they reached their row, something... unexpected was waiting.
Three teenage girls—probably around 18—sat comfortably across seats 3A, 3B, and 3C, giggling, taking selfies, and sharing snacks like they owned the place. They didn't even look up until Arjun stopped in front of them.
"Excuse me," he said politely, "I think these are our seats."
The girls looked up—and froze.
Their eyes widened like cartoon characters spotting a superhero.
"OMG," one whispered. "Do you see his arms?"
"His shoulders—bro, are those even legal?"
"I swear I can see his six-pack through his hoodie."
Arjun awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "Uh… the seats?"
Then the boldest girl—pink streak in her hair—leaned forward, chin in palm, and asked with a grin: "Can you marry me?"
Arjun blinked. "I'm... already done with that."
Maya, raising an eyebrow: "Done with it?"
Arjun quickly turned to her, "I mean, I already married. Yesterday. I am very recently done."
The girls squealed.
"Awwww!"
"Oh my god, cute couple alert!"
"Okay okay," one of them said dramatically, "we're making a sacrifice for true love. You two sit in our seats."
"Where?" Maya asked.
"Row 26. Same side. A, B, C. Total downgrade, but for your abs? Worth it."
Before Maya could object, Arjun was already nodding like a diplomat accepting peace terms.
"Thank you, thank you, very kind."
They swapped seats, hiking halfway down the plane as Maya muttered, "She asked to marry you."
"She said it like a joke."
"You looked flattered."
"I was scared."
They found Row 26. As they reached the seats, an old man was already seated in 26C—the aisle seat. He looked somewhere between 65 and 80, with a snowy beard, slightly hunched shoulders, and bright eyes like he was watching a silent comedy only he understood.
He smiled when he saw them.
"Yesss, come in! Get in! You two are a fresh breeze. The last people were snorers."
Maya slid into the window seat. Arjun sat in the middle. The old man gave a little salute and returned to reading what looked like an instruction manual for a toaster.
Two minutes later, Arjun leaned toward Maya, whispering like a child at a museum.
"Can I sit by the window, please? Just for takeoff?"
Maya rolled her eyes dramatically. "Aaaahhh. Fine."
She unbuckled, switched seats, and gave him a little don't get used to this look.
Now Arjun sat by the window, forehead pressed to the cool glass, eyes scanning the runway like he was about to witness the end of civilization. Maya had just settled in beside him again when the old man leaned over.
He whispered to her, "How'd your husband get those abs? You feeding him spinach or fear?"
Before Maya could answer, the engines started with a loud thrum.
The plane began to roll.
And from the front rows came a scream.
A full-throated, high-pitched, soul-exiting-the-body scream.
Everyone's heads turned.
It was Arjun.
Gripping the seat in front of him, eyes wild, he'd clearly just remembered they were about to defy gravity inside a pressurized metal can.
The entire row looked back at him like he'd just claimed to see aliens.
"I—sorry!" he stammered. "Just a fuse issue. My... internal fuse. Resetting. Human error."
Somewhere behind them, someone muttered, "Bro's muscles forgot to update his software."
Maya leaned close. "You okay?"
"I will be if this thing doesn't leave Earth."
Suddenly—CLICK—all the cabin lights went out.
A beat of silence.
Then panic.
Screams. Gasps. Someone dropped a water bottle that rolled ominously. Kids cried.
Except one person.
Arjun sat in his window seat, completely still.
Legs crossed.
Arms folded.
Chin tilted up, eyes half-closed, like he was posing for a mysterious cologne ad called "Air Pressure."
The lights flickered back on.
Everyone stared at him.
He raised one eyebrow.
Now they looked embarrassed.
The old man let out a chuckle. "Oh, this flight's going to be fun."