"You all clapped for us!" My voice rose, raw and ragged. "You congratulated us! You wished us a lifetime of happiness together!"
"Don't you remember?!"
One by one, they shook their heads, blank-faced.
"Congratulations? No."
"It's been quiet this whole flight. Nobody said anything like that."
"Son, you don't look so good. Why don't you sit down and rest for a bit?"
They spoke over each other, casual and unhurried, their expressions open and guileless.
As if the applause, the cheering, the well-wishes for Amy and me had never happened.
But that was impossible.
Every moment was seared into my memory. The clapping. The smiles. Amy peeling a tangerine, the citrus scent still lingering on my fingers. I remembered it all, vivid and sharp, down to the smallest detail.
So how could a living, breathing person simply vanish at thirty thousand feet?
Why had every single person given the same story—that they'd never seen her?
Why had every photo on my phone vanished?
"Amy, where the hell are you?!"
I was teetering on the edge of a complete breakdown, screaming at the top of my lungs.
Melissa and the other flight attendants kept trying to talk me down.