Her first flight

Her POV:

I am packing my bags, the pink soft bags of mine it's decorated with white ribbons and pearls ofcourse fake ones. I slip into my soft white cardigan over the crocheted pink dress I made myself. Today, I am about to start a new life—a new journey. Hmm I am quiet nervous but at least finally, I’m leaving Rivera. My heart feels full of hope and uncertainty.

It’s not that I dislike Rivera, my precious state where I was raised. But I have so many thorny memories here, ones I wish would disappear someday. That doesn’t mean I hate all of Rivera. It’s a small state of Inaya—a country so vast it holds one-fourth of the world’s population, its culture so diverse it feels like a miniature world of its own.

What do I even say about Rivera? It’s beautiful, even with its flaws. I love it nonetheless. I could talk about my city Gardenia all day. My state is nestled by the Sherine River, surrounded by river islands and protected by tall mountains. We are rich in culture and heritage—every step you take, you’ll find poems of patriotism, ballads of brave women, divine love stories of celestial beings, and the faint scent of rain, flowers, and of course, the river itself.

Full of nature, it’s home to uncountable protected rate species, artists—painters, singers, poets—each street humming with art. I’m proud to be from here, proud to be one of them. My eyes sting as I think of it tears flow again as my heart clenches.

“How do I leave you, Rivera?” Tears blur my vision. “Without you, what’s even my identity?”

The sun sets over the Sherine River, painting the water with orange and gold. Light shimmers on the surface, glinting in my brownish-black hair.

I was an orphan once, adopted by the Crystals when I was six. Under their roof things happened—things I don’t wish to talk about. How could I? If I did, it would only frighten people. Everyone who glimpses my darkness runs. They don’t know how to hold it. Only the Sherine River knows. The rain I’ve cried with knows. But most of all, the moon knows.

Yes—the moon knows when it all began. When the cruelest thing happened, I ran to him. The moon always because beside him who'd have patience to listen? Empathy to understand? Silence to reassure.

You’d laugh at me, wouldn’t you? I giggle through my tears. Since childhood, I’ve called the moon my groom. I’m sixteen now, yet foolish me still believes it sometimes. No, I don’t have mystical powers or anything like that—it’s just that my name, Jemisha Crystal, means Queen of the Night or Night Sky, a divine stem from a goddess of light herself.

So as a child, I believed I was the personification of the night—darkness that turns into moonlight when illuminated by him. The moon was my groom; I was his bride. Silly, isn’t it? But come on, every girl believes in fairytales. Because what would I have to depend on if not those foolish imagination?

So I believed—if I exist as a human, then the moon he must too. Somewhere out there, my human moon walks the same world. I’ve been waiting for him—the one my heart will recognize. The one who makes me feel safe, protected, loved, wanted, and cherished. The one who helps me let go of all my guards. The one whose presence feels as safe as the moon itself.

But I’m sixteen now, and I still haven’t found him.

It’s not like boys haven’t tried. Many boys trued. Some painted for me, one wrote poems, another waited for years hoping I’d look at him. But how could I? I am too afraid to hand over my recklessly bandaged bleeding heart. They'll run or abandon ones seeing it's cuts and wounds. My heart—still bleeding—couldn’t feel anything for any of them they didn't come with that safety moon exists with.

My teenage years weren’t kind. They were full of chains, thorns piercing through every step I took. My only escape was studying—so hard that I had no time to breathe, let alone look at boys. I wasn’t interested in dating anyway. I had goals, and today, I’ve achieved one.

I sit by the river as the sun dips below the horizon. Soon it will be dark. I should go. Honestly It isn’t the darkness that scares me—I’ve always felt a strange affinity to it—it’s men, and sometimes, spirits of the same species that do.

I’m a sensitive soul. I feel too much. I sense too much or maybe I am just little delusional not little though.

Anyway, back to where I was. I’ve completed high school. I gave my entrance exams and topped them. I’m going to another country now for further studies. Not because Rivera lacked anything—I simply wanted to run away. To stay away from my adoptive family. Why? I guess I will only open up to my moon someday when I meet him.

I’m headed to the Haneudal Country, Seorim City. I got admission to Haneul National University. If I keep earning good grades and scholarships, I can study there from college all the way to my PhD. I really hope I do.

My family isn’t supporting me. They think it's useless for a girl to demand so much from life. So, I’ve used all my scholarship money I got throughout my school years for flight ticket and admission in Haneul National University. I have just enough left to survive for a month. I’ll have to find a part-time job somehow to survive in Seorim.

I wish to be a songwriter I love writing poems and ballads I wish to write songs or pieces that touches people's heart people like me who have no place to belong. I also love science—so I’ll study it. Maybe I’ll become a doctor, or a researcher. I don’t know which yet. I know that a girl like me with no family or wealth I am dreaming too hight too big—but again without my dreams, I have nothing to live for.

I wipe my tears as fireflies rise around me my mystical friends they are so beautiful and magical. The river waves grow louder, as if echoing my thoughts as if Sherine is being worried for me expressing with his waves. My precious Sherine River do you know in entire Inaya Sherine river is the only river considered as a male river my best friend. I smile bitterly my tears sparkling it's hurting so bad in my chest.

“Moon, if only you had already found me… maybe I wouldn’t have to leave Rivera to find safety in an unfamiliar place.” My throat tightens. “When will it be that you'll find me?”

I sigh, and walk back with a heart so heavy it's suffocating.

The airport sits near the Sherine River. It feels like another world to me—so many people, so many security checks. I’ve spent most of my life between my room, my books, the riverbank, under the moon. Crowds make me anxious. I clutch my documents tightly as they ask for my passport and visa.

No one came to see me off. My adoptive family didn’t approve of me leaving. But I can’t be bitter. At least they gave me food and shelter for eleven years I am basically a stranger who even does that so they did a lot. I was told once that they wanted to adopt my brother from the orphanage he was called a prodigy with high IQ—but he’d already been adopted by the time they went to orphanage, so they took me instead. I was five when he was adopted. I don’t remember his face. Maybe if he were here, he’d have come to say goodbye?

The airport sits near the Sherine River. It feels like another world to me—so many people, so many security checks, so much noise. I’ve spent most of my life between my room, my books, the riverbank, and the quiet company of the moon. Crowds make me anxious. The murmur of voices feels like waves crashing against my ribs. I clutch my documents tightly as they ask for my passport and visa, my palms damp with nervous sweat.

No one came to see me off. My adoptive family didn’t approve of me leaving. But I can’t be bitter. At least they gave me food and shelter for eleven years. I’m basically a stranger to them—who even does that much? So yes, they did a lot.

I was told once that they wanted to adopt my brother from the orphanage—he was called a prodigy with a high IQ—but he’d already been adopted by the time they arrived, so they took me instead. I was five when he was adopted. I don’t remember his face. Maybe if he were here, he’d have come to say goodbye?

My heart aches sharply. I breathe out, shaking it off, pressing a hand against my chest as though I could steady the pain with my own touch.

It’s time to board. My legs tremble as I step into the line. I’ve read too many theories about Bermuda Triangles and plane crashes. Maybe that’s why I’m so scared—but maybe that’s also why I fell in love with science, to make sense of fear, to rationalize chaos.

People behind me grow impatient as I hesitate. I’m wearing a mask and a cap to hide my face—it’s easier that way. They can’t see how terrified I am.

Inside the cabin, I find my seat and try to lift my luggage, but it’s too heavy. I packed all my books, some small gifts from my school friends, pieces of home I couldn’t leave behind. My arms shake. Panic rises—until a stranger behind me reaches out and lifts it effortlessly.

It’s a man. Tall. Dressed in a black hoodie, mask, and cap. I can’t see his face, only the calm, unhurried motion of his hands.

He takes the seat beside mine. My heart races as the cabin lights dim and the flight begins to move. The hum of the engines vibrates beneath my feet. I grip the hem of my dress tightly. Cold air brushes against my skin, my stomach flips. Am I really in the sky now?

Thank God for the mask—it hides the way my lips tremble, the way my teeth bite into them to keep me from crying.

“Is it your first time flying?” he asks quietly. His English isn’t perfect, but his tone carries a warmth that feels… safe.

“Y-yeah,” I stammer, embarrassed, unable to meet his eyes.

He plugs his headphones into his phone and gently offers me one earpiece. “Try to sleep while listening,” he says. “By the time you wake, it’ll be over.”

His voice has that rare gentleness that people use when they mean no harm. Still, I freeze. What if this is a trick? What if—

Then guilt stings me for even thinking that. No stranger has ever been kind to me before. I don’t know how to receive it, how to believe it’s real.

I take the headphones, bowing slightly in thanks, my fingers trembling as they brush his. Music fills my ears—sweet, melodic voices singing in Haneul, seven harmonies weaving like lullabies of angels.

Through the small oval window, I glimpse the moon following us across the clouds. My heartbeat steadies. “In the presence of the moon,” I whisper softly, “nothing will happen to me.”

It’s that same childhood faith—fragile, foolish, but comforting.

And just as he said, I drift to sleep.

When I wake, it’s over.

There’s a soft black blanket over me. My heart skips a beat—was it him? I look around, but he’s gone. The seat beside me is empty. He’s left the blanket, the headphones, and even pulled down my suitcase.

I smile faintly, almost tearfully. Could someone this kind truly exist?

I carry the blanket and headphones with me, clutching them like treasures, hoping to find him in the airport and thank him. Without him, the three-and-a-half-hour flight would’ve ended in a panic attack.

But I never find him.

Outside the airport, the air smells different—cleaner, colder, unfamiliar. The people look nothing like Riverans. Their voices, their clothes, even their energy—it’s all foreign. My stomach twists. How will I survive here?

Still, I’m hopeful. I’m free from the Crystals now. For the first time, the world feels vast and frightening, but it’s mine.

I sigh, taking one last look around, but the masked boy is nowhere. Disappointment tugs softly at my chest. I didn’t even get to thank him.

It’s midnight in Seorim City. The taxi ride feels endless, the neon lights blurring past like streams of melted colors. Exhaustion seeps into my bones. I’ve slept on the plane, yet my eyelids grow unbearably heavy. I rub them, trying to fight it, but my vision blurs.

“Wait… this doesn’t feel right…” I try to speak, but my voice fades into the hum of the car.

The world spins into blackness before I can finish the sentence.

And I don’t know where I’m being taken.

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