From the ticket check to boarding, to settling into my seat, to the cabin doors closing, I documented every single step.

Then I posted a nine-photo grid of us together on Instagram.

Caption: "Boarded! Taking the girlfriend home to meet the family."

The likes and well-wishes poured in almost instantly:

"So sweet! Wishing you both the best!"

"Wow, finally meeting the parents! Congrats!!"

"Safe travels—I'm already looking forward to the wedding reception."

To be extra safe, I had Amy and me pose together holding up our boarding passes, and sent that photo to the family group chat.

"Mom, Dad—Amy and I are on the plane. We land in three hours."

My mom replied within seconds: "Finally getting to meet our future daughter-in-law! Your dad and I already went grocery shopping. We're just waiting for you two to get home!"

Between my mom's reply and the dozens of comments on my post, I finally let out a breath.

No one could possibly claim I didn't have a girlfriend now, right?

When the plane took off, the flight attendant asked everyone to switch their phones to airplane mode, then began distributing beverages.

When she reached our row, Melissa Cobb—just like in my previous life—got bumped by another passenger and accidentally splashed some orange juice on me.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

Melissa apologized profusely, reaching to clean the juice off my shirt.

But Amy beat her to it, grabbing a napkin and gently dabbing at the stain.

"It's fine, I'll take care of my boyfriend."

Melissa thanked her politely, then turned to me with a genuine smile.

"Your girlfriend is really sweet."

I stared hard at Melissa. In my previous life, she'd said the exact same thing—complimented my girlfriend to my face.

But after Amy vanished, when I asked Melissa if she'd seen my girlfriend, she'd looked at me blankly and said:

"Sir, are you sure you're not mistaken?"

"I clearly saw you board alone."

To prevent Melissa from changing her story again, I immediately smiled at her and made a request.

"Could I ask you a small favor?"

Melissa looked at me, puzzled. "What kind of favor?"

I pulled out my phone and said earnestly:

"Today's the first time I'm bringing my girlfriend home to meet my parents. I want to document this trip properly. Would you mind taking a photo with the two of us?"

"Just as a little keepsake."

Melissa nodded without hesitation.

"Of course."

Amy and I posed with Melissa, and the three of us took a photo together.

I saved the picture carefully, then turned my attention to the elderly man sitting closest to us across the aisle—Bertram James, who looked to be nearly seventy.

His seat was the nearest to ours. In my previous life, he'd been bumped by another passenger while looking for his seat and nearly fell. Amy had caught him just in time and helped him back into his seat. He'd thanked her over and over.

So when I'd gone around asking passengers if they'd seen Amy, he was the first person I'd approached.

But he'd insisted that the seat next to mine had been empty the entire flight. That no one had ever sat there.

To make sure Amy left a deeper impression on him this time, I gently tapped Bertram on the shoulder. "Excuse me, sir."

Bertram looked at me, curious. "Yes?"

I pointed at Amy in her seat, putting on a nervous expression.

"I was wondering—what do you think of my girlfriend? How does she look?"

"My parents haven't met her yet, and I'm a little nervous."

Bertram studied Amy for a moment, then nodded approvingly.

"She's a lovely young woman. You two make a wonderful couple."

"Your parents are definitely going to love her."

I thanked Bertram for his words and sank into thought.

Both Bertram and Melissa had reacted completely naturally. Their tone, their expressions—nothing suggested evasion or discomfort.

So where was the problem?

Why had they insisted, after my previous life ended, that they'd never seen Amy at all?

I needed to push Amy's presence to the absolute maximum. I took her hand and pulled her to her feet beside me.

Under her puzzled gaze, I raised my voice so the entire cabin could hear.

"Sorry to interrupt, everyone. Just a couple of minutes."

"Today's a big day for me. I'm bringing my girlfriend home to meet my parents for the first time. We've been together three years, and we're planning to get engaged right after the visit."

"Sharing this flight with all of you at thirty thousand feet feels like fate, so I'm hoping you'd be willing to give us your blessing. Would you?"

Every pair of eyes on the plane turned toward me and Amy.

No one hesitated. Applause broke out across the cabin, warm and generous.

"Congratulations! Wishing you two a lifetime of happiness!"

"You two are adorable together. Here's to forever!"

"Can't wait to hear about the wedding!"

Amy beamed through the chorus of well-wishes, her cheeks flushed a deep pink. She thanked each person she could, then tugged me back into my seat.

"Ernest, what's gotten into you today?" she whispered, half-laughing. "Since when are you this bold? You're embarrassing me."

I gripped her hand tight, my expression dead serious.

"I'm just terrified of losing you."

Now every single person on this plane was a witness.

I refused to believe anything could still go wrong.

Amy's face softened. She reached up and ran her fingers gently through my hair.

"Silly. I love you this much. How could I ever let you lose me?"

"Is this because you're nervous about introducing me to your parents?"

To ease my anxiety, she pulled my favorite snack from her carry-on bag—a tangerine.

She peeled it carefully, head bowed in concentration, then held a segment to my lips. "Stop overthinking. Eat something. We've still got over an hour before we land."

I stared at the tangerine she was offering, and my hands went still.

In my previous life, this was the exact moment I'd gotten up to use the restroom because I couldn't hold it any longer. When I came back, Amy was gone.

All that remained was this peeled tangerine.

Right now, the pressure in my bladder was building again. But there was no way I was leaving this seat.

I ate a segment and held on to her hand like a vice.

"From this moment on, you don't leave my sight. Not even one step."

Amy laughed softly, shaking her head. "Okay, okay. I won't go anywhere."

The words had barely left her mouth when the plane lurched violently.

"Attention, passengers. We are experiencing severe turbulence due to strong air currents. Please fasten your seatbelts, grip your armrests, and remain seated."

The announcement blared through the speakers, and the shaking only grew worse. The cabin lights began to flicker—strobing, stuttering—then cut out entirely.

Total darkness.

Every passenger clung to their armrests, frozen, not daring to move.

Two seconds passed.

The lights snapped back on. The plane steadied.

My heart was still hammering. My first instinct was to grab the arm beside me.

My hand closed around nothing.

I whipped my head to the left.

Amy's seat was empty.

She was gone.

She'd been holding my hand just seconds ago.

How could she vanish in the span of a single blink?

Sheer panic swallowed me whole. I tore at my seatbelt like a man possessed, lurching to my feet, head whipping in every direction.

The seats. The aisle. The lavatories. I even dropped to my knees and checked beneath the rows.

Nothing.

She was nowhere.

Amy had vanished again.

"Flight attendant! Flight attendant!"

My voice cracked with desperation. Melissa rushed over immediately. "What's wrong?"

I jabbed a finger at Amy's seat, my voice shaking.

"My girlfriend is gone!"

"She was right here when the turbulence hit, and then the lights went out and she just disappeared!"

Melissa frowned, glancing at the empty seat beside mine.

"Sir, are you sure you're not mistaken?" She tilted her head, genuinely puzzled. "We only saw you board alone. We never saw any girlfriend."

Again.

That same blank, bewildered expression.

That same word-for-word answer.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I yanked out my phone, swiping frantically through my photo gallery.

"How could you not have seen her? You just took a photo with her—"

The words died in my throat.

The photo we'd taken together, the three of us, Amy, Melissa, and me, was gone.

And it wasn't just that one. The grid of photos I'd posted to Instagram, the pictures and messages I'd sent to the family group chat, all of it had vanished. Every last trace, wiped clean.

What the hell was happening?

"Sir, I don't know what photo you're talking about, but I truly have never seen this girlfriend of yours." Melissa's tone was patient but firm. "The plane is still in flight. Please return to your seat and fasten your seatbelt."

I didn't sit down. Instead, I turned to Bertram, desperate for confirmation.

"Sir, you saw my girlfriend just now, right? You complimented her. You said she was beautiful, that my parents would love her."

Bertram raised his head and stared at me, his face a mask of utter confusion.

"Son, what are you talking about?"

"When did I ever compliment your girlfriend? I've never even laid eyes on her." He gestured at the empty seat beside me. "From the moment I boarded this plane, you've been sitting here by yourself. That seat has been empty the entire time. Nobody has sat there."

His tone was calm. Matter-of-fact. As though every word out of his mouth were the plain, simple truth.

And the more natural he sounded, the more wrong it all felt.

"That's impossible," I said. "You said it to her face. You praised her, right in front of me. She's been with me this whole flight. There's no way you didn't see her."

The moment the words left my mouth, passengers across the cabin turned to stare. Their eyes carried something between pity and suspicion.

"Kid, I remember you boarding alone."

"That seat next to you has been empty since takeoff. What girlfriend?"

"Maybe the turbulence rattled you. You're not thinking straight. Could be your mind playing tricks on you."

I looked from face to face, searching for a single crack in their certainty, a flicker of recognition, anything.

"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?