The airport was colder than usual, or maybe it just felt that way because of the stares. Carla pulled her jacket tighter around her, gripping her boarding pass like it was the only thing keeping her steady. She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact as she moved through the terminal.
Her scar was still healing, but already, it felt like it had become part of her identity. People didn’t see Carla anymore; they saw the jagged red line stretching from above her hairline, slicing through her brow and cheek, and ending near her jaw. The accident had been sudden, terrifying. One moment, she had been a passenger in her friend’s car, and the next, the airbag had exploded in her face, sending shards of glass cutting deep into her skin.
The doctors had done their best. They stitched her up with careful hands, prescribing ointments and creams to help with the healing. But nothing could stop the scar from forming.
Her friends had tried to make her feel better. “It looks badass,” one had said. “Like a warrior’s mark,” another added. Someone even called it sexy, mysterious.
Carla had smiled, pretending to believe them, but deep down, she knew the truth. People stared too long or looked away too quickly. Strangers saw her face and flinched before they caught themselves. And no amount of reassurance could take away the feeling of being different.
She had done everything the doctors advised—kept the wound clean, applied the special creams, stayed out of the sun. But the scar remained angry and red, impossible to hide, even under makeup. She knew it would fade with time, but the thought of it never disappearing completely settled like a weight in her chest.
Now, as she walked down the narrow aisle of the plane, she felt the eyes on her. A few passengers glanced at her face and quickly looked away. Others stared openly, their curiosity evident. Carla pretended not to notice. She had gotten used to it.
Reaching her seat by the window, she exhaled in relief and sat down, slipping on her headphones. She turned up the music, hoping to drown out the world. Closing her eyes, she prayed for an uneventful flight.
But peace didn’t last long.
A loud, irritated voice cut through the cabin noise.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” a man grumbled. “These are our seats?”
His tone was sharp, full of frustration.
“Row 5B and 5C,” a woman replied, sounding equally annoyed. “It’s fine. Just sit down.”
Carla kept her eyes closed, willing them to ignore her. But the silence that followed made her skin prickle. She could feel them staring.
“Next to what?” the woman asked, and then she gasped. “Oh.”
Carla tensed.
“You’ve got to be joking,” the woman muttered.
Carla took a slow breath, trying to steady her nerves.
“Hey, lady!” the man barked.
Carla opened her eyes slowly, turning toward him. The moment he saw her face, he flinched, then scowled.
“Can’t you cover that up or something?” he snapped.
Carla stared at him, too stunned to speak.
“Tom,” the woman hissed, pulling her sweater sleeve over her nose. “That’s disgusting. How did they even let her board like that?”
Carla felt heat rush to her face. Her fingers curled into fists on her lap.
“Exactly!” Tom leaned forward, pointing a finger at her. “This is a public place! People don’t need to see… that.”
The woman made a gagging sound. “I can’t even look at her. I’ll throw up.”
Carla’s throat tightened. The words were like sharp blades, cutting into her already fragile confidence. She wanted to disappear. To melt into the seat and never be seen again.
Tom waved down a flight attendant. “Hey! Can you do something about this? My girlfriend is freaking out.”
The attendant arrived, her face calm but firm. “Is there a problem, sir?”
“Yeah, there’s a problem,” Tom said. “Look at her!” He jabbed his thumb in Carla’s direction. “It’s upsetting my girlfriend. Can you move her to the back or something?”
The attendant glanced at Carla. Her expression softened for a moment before she turned back to the man.
“Sir, all passengers are entitled to their seats,” she said coolly. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I just told you!” Tom snapped. “She’s sitting there looking like that. It’s gross.”
The attendant straightened. “Sir, ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to lower your voices. This behavior is not acceptable.”
“Behavior?” Tom scoffed. “What about her behavior? She’s scaring people!”
The intercom crackled, and the captain’s voice came through, firm and unwavering.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We expect all passengers to treat one another with dignity and respect. Harassment or discrimination will not be tolerated on this flight.”
A hush fell over the cabin. Passengers turned, their gazes shifting toward row 5.
The flight attendant returned, her stance unwavering. “Mr. and Ms., I’ll need you to move to seats 22B and 22C at the back of the plane.”
“What?” Tom barked. “We’re not moving!”
“Sir, this is not negotiable.”
Muttering curses under his breath, Tom grabbed his bag and stormed toward the back. His girlfriend huffed, clutching her purse like it was an insult.
Then, a single clap rang out. Then another. The sound grew, filling the cabin with applause. Carla bit her lip, overwhelmed.
The flight attendant turned to her. “Miss, I’m so sorry you experienced that. We have an open seat in business class. Would you like to move?”
Carla hesitated. “I don’t want to cause trouble.”
“You’re not causing trouble,” the attendant said kindly. “Please, let us take care of you.”
Carla nodded.
As she settled into her new seat, a flight attendant brought her coffee and cookies. She gazed out the window at the endless stretch of clouds. For the first time in weeks, she felt something warm and real blossom inside her.
Hope.
