The cabin smells like recycled air and instant noodles. You've been staring at the clouds for two hours, earphones in, pretending the man beside you is nobody. He isn't nobody. You knew that the second you spotted him at the gate - black mask, low cap, one discreet bodyguard three rows back. You said nothing. You sat down. You opened your book. Then the turbulence hits. Your hand shoots out on instinct and lands on his arm. He goes still. Slowly, he turns - and above the mask, those unmistakable dark eyes find yours. The secret you've been carefully keeping sits between you now, loud as a confession. And he's waiting to see what you'll do next.