On the day when Easton returned, I was waiting for him at the airport at 8 a.m.
Time passed minute by minute, and it was nine p.m. Easton's figure was nowhere to be seen.
I looked at my wristwatch to confirm the time, thinking, "Could it be that his flight was delayed?"
So I patiently waited for more than ten minutes.
When the news of the plane crash came over the radio, my vision went black. A part of me seemed to have been broken.
I covered my chest in pain and cried until I fainted.
"Easton!"
I broke out in a burst of cold sweat and woke up from the bed.
Soon, I fell into an embrace with a fragrant scent.
"I'm here," he responded warmly.
The fragrance made me feel at ease. Tears unconsciously welled up in my eyes as I said, "You're still alive?"
"Yes," he gently rubbed my hair, adding, "I changed my flight at the last minute."
Looking back now, I felt a lingering fear when I heard the announcement at that time.
"It's a good thing you changed your flight. Luckily, you changed your flight!" I cried breathlessly.
Easton hugged me tighter at my words.
Suddenly, I remembered something important and asked, "When do you plan to leave this time?"