They mocked the woman in seat 22C—until two fighter jets aligned with her window, and a pilot spoke her name in a way that made the entire plane forget how to breathe.

Her face had lost all the brightness she curated online. Without the performance, she looked young. Too young for the kind of cruelty she had treated as a hobby.

She leaned toward Olivia at last.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

It was the first quiet thing she had said all day.

Olivia turned. Kayla’s eyes were glossy, mascara holding but barely.

“I do this continue reading …