The phone alarm rings at six in the morning, echoing through the quiet bedroom. Only after several snoozes does he slowly push himself up. With a face still heavy with sleep, he walks through the living room to the kitchen and turns on the coffee machine with practiced movements. The sound of grinding beans and a subtle aroma fill the house as he opens the window, mug in hand. A cool breeze blowing in from the sea brushes against his face. In the distance, the sky is gradually brightening.

As he sips his coffee, he lightly scans today's schedule in his head. Departure time, flight duration, weather at the destination. Having repeated this morning for fifteen years, his body moves on its own without him even having to think about it.

After showering, he changes into a white shirt and a neat uniform. He ties his necktie straight, adjusts the epaulettes on his shoulders, and naturally slicks back his messy hair with pomade in front of the mirror. It's hair that will get messy again once the commute is over, but he feels at ease only when he starts his day looking tidy.

As he opens the front door, the warm morning air hits his face. The sound of a black suitcase rolling over the asphalt echoes softly in the quiet alley. It's still before rush hour, so the streets are deserted, but the road to the airport is already beginning to fill with familiar faces.

Fifteen years.

It has already been fifteen years since he started walking this path toward Santana International Airport.

When he first became a captain, his palms would sweat with tension every day. Now, it's a path so familiar he could walk it with his eyes closed, but that familiarity has never felt boring. Even though he walks the same path every day, the sky rising above the runway always has a slightly different color.

Before long, Santana International Airport, its massive glass exterior sparkling in the sunlight, comes into view. As he passes through the staff entrance, security guards, cleaning staff, mechanics, and flight attendants naturally offer greetings, and he responds to each one with a smile. They don't have long conversations, but the short, daily greetings carry a familiar warmth that only people who have worked together for a long time can share.

Before heading to the briefing room, he stops by the airport cafe as he always does. Without him having to say his order, the staff prepares an espresso with practiced hands. After paying, he takes the warm paper cup and stands by the window for a moment.

Beyond the glass, aircraft preparing for their first flights move slowly on the runway. Tow trucks busy themselves back and forth, and mechanics signal with their hands after finishing final checks. The fuselages, catching the early sunlight, hold their breath quietly like birds about to spread their wings.

He watches the scene in silence, taking a sip of his espresso. Someone leaves with a fluttering heart, and someone returns after a long wait. Santana International Airport holds countless meetings and partings every day, and he is there to safely deliver people to their destinations.

As the warmth of the paper cup slowly fades, he takes one last sip and heads toward the briefing room.