"Please—just listen to me. For your baby's sake, think this through. The rain outside is way too heavy. Flying in weather like this isn't safe."
"Sir, I'm not trying to cause trouble. I just need you to hear me out—sir?"
"Ladies, you seriously don't feel anything? Not even a hint—that sense that something bad is about to happen? If you really focus, I'm sure you'll feel it."
Bella tried her hardest to persuade the surrounding passengers, but without solid proof she could only rely on sincerity. If anyone showed even the slightest hesitation, she repeated her plea—wait for the next flight. Her tone was so genuine that a few passengers actually stopped walking.
Most were unsure. A handful had already moved on to open mockery.
"Idiot."
"Psycho."
"Delusional."
Labels landed on her like thrown stones.
"Miss! If you're not boarding this flight, leave immediately. The airport does not welcome you!"
A security guard stormed over—big, loud, pointing toward the exit like she was a pest he couldn't wait to kick out.
Bella realized one-on-one convincing was too slow. She needed leverage. Authority.
"Where's your supervisor? I want him to order a safety inspection on the aircraft. It won't take long—and it's our right as passengers!"
That—finally—sounded very American. A few people began murmuring agreement. Even a white-haired old man called out that the airport should be more cautious and run a full check.
"I agree with her. You have a responsibility to protect passengers' lives."
Then a tall brunette girl stepped out from the group of forty students, openly standing at Bella's side. Sweat beaded at her hairline—she was scared, but still stepped forward.
"Claire, are you insane too?"
"I always knew there was something off about that girl."
"Miss Redfield, we are a group. Come back now." The teacher's voice snapped like a whip.
But the brunette, Claire, refused to board. She stood firm.
"We can wait for the next flight—three hours from now. Boarding now is way too risky. I… I have the same feeling she does. Not as strong, but it's there. Please trust me."
Even after all that effort, most passengers still treated the whole thing like a joke. In the end, only Bella, Claire, two of Claire's classmates, and about a dozen strangers remained in the terminal.
The airport supervisor arrived in a hurry, a big-bellied man with a face full of irritation. Ten-plus passengers refusing to board because of some vague "bad feeling"? If this hit the media, corporate was going to roast him alive.
He glared at them.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I need you to leave. Officially—Global Airlines does not welcome you."
Claire's two classmates froze. They'd been planning to take that next flight in three hours.
"You don't have the authority to do that!"
"You're abusing your power! I'll file a complaint!"
The supervisor waved them off like flies. "Security, escort these people out. I've seen enough."
But before anyone could be pushed out, chaos exploded from the direction of the plane.
Two big male students staggered down the jet bridge, practically dragging a thin, frantic boy. The strict female teacher followed, sweating and pale. Behind them came a flood of students and passengers pouring out like they were fleeing a wild animal.
"Let me go! The plane is going to blow up! I'm not causing trouble—I swear! Let go! LET GO!"
The thin boy thrashed wildly. He was drenched in sweat, plaid shirt sticking to him like he'd been dunked in water. The two boys hauling him looked disgusted, like they were hauling a lunatic.
Another voice rose from the crowd—a young man with black hair.
"The bridge collapse last month—you heard about it, right? I'm one of the survivors! God—this is just like before. I was thinking about it earlier and then… something clouded my mind. Like something was messing with me. It wants to kill us! We're not getting out—we're all dead!"
One person raving might be ignored.
Two or three? Not so easy.
But this time it wasn't two or three.
It was dozens.
Forty or fifty passengers came pouring out at once—running so fast shoes flew off, faces twisted in panic. The terminal erupted in noise.
The pilot, a Black man, stomped out after them—so angry his face had gone pale. In all his years of flying, he had never seen chaos like this.
Ten people had refused to board earlier. Now over forty were running off. A full third of the plane had emptied in minutes.
This was absolutely going to hit the news. If the airline wanted to stop the rumors, there was only one option:
They had to take off.
"You're sure the plane will be fine, right?" the supervisor whispered, eyeing the worsening storm outside.
"Trust my professionalism," the pilot growled. "Nothing will happen."
He marched back onto the plane.
Bella sat alone in a corner, far from the passengers who had just fled in terror. She watched the plane taxi onto the runway, her stomach twisting.
The adrenaline was fading.
Now she was scared.
The more she knew, the more terrifying it became.
She worried for the hundred-plus passengers still on board. But if nothing happened—if the plane landed safely—what then? Would she get blamed for causing panic? Did America have a fifteen-day detention for "spreading rumors"? Or would they jump straight to fifteen years?
Bella's mind spiraled. Her pretty brows knotted tight. Her already pale complexion turned ghostly.
She glanced at the thin boy still cursing like a mad dog, and at the black-haired man rambling about the collapse.
Oddly… she felt comforted.
At least there were two male leads sharing the crime with her.
She didn't know them. They weren't accomplices. If the court charged them separately…
Maybe her sentence would be lighter.