Ethan led us through the bustling airport, his presence commanding and effortless. I followed him, trying to keep my nerves under control as we approached the security checkpoint.
The lines were long, and we waited patiently for our turn to scan our luggage. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, it was our turn. Ethan went first, his bag sailing through the X-ray machine without a hitch.
As I was about to follow, I heard the announcement: our flight had been delayed by an hour. I sighed, glancing over at Ethan to see his reaction.
Ethan's face remained impassive as if the news of the delay had barely registered. He adjusted his suit jacket, glancing down at his phone before tucking it back into his pocket.
