The attendant held her gaze.
“Your pocket, please.”
“Excuse me? Why on earth would I do that?”
“Several passengers saw you bend down and pick something up before takeoff.”
“You definitely put something in your pocket.”
The man across the aisle cleared his throat, the same thoughtful frown he’d worn earlier deepening now into certainty.
“I kept turning it over in my head. I thought you were just adjusting your bag, but the more I pictured it, the more I was sure you slipped something into your coat.”
The woman behind leaned into the aisle.
“I saw it too. You definitely put something in your pocket.”
Lily quietly took the ring.
Every head turned toward row 12.
The woman in row 12 stammered, her hand hovering near her coat.
“This is ridiculous. I don’t have to.”
“Ma’am,” the flight attendant repeated. “Please.”
Slowly, she reached into her pocket. Her fingers came out holding my gold wedding ring.
