The airport felt colder than usual. Or maybe it was just me—the way people stared, their eyes flickering to my face and quickly away again, like they were afraid I’d notice. I kept my head down, gripping my boarding pass like it was the only thing keeping me grounded.
The scar on my face was still healing, but it already felt like it had carved itself into my identity. People didn’t see me anymore—they saw the scar first.
It had happened a month ago. A car accident. I had been a passenger, and when the airbag deployed, a shard of glass sliced deep into my skin. The doctors were fast, stitching me up with careful precision, but they couldn’t stop the jagged line from forming.
“Early scar tissue,” my dermatologist had called it. It was raw, shiny, and an angry shade of red. The mark stretched from above my hairline, cut through my brow, ran down my cheek, and stopped near my jaw. A part of my eyebrow would never grow back. My cheek had an indentation where the cut had been deepest.
For weeks, bandages had hidden the wound. At first, I couldn’t even look at my reflection. But the bandages came off, and I had no choice but to face it. My friends tried to lift my spirits. “It makes you look badass,” one said. Another smirked and added, “It’s kind of sexy—like a battle scar.”
I tried to believe them. But it was hard when strangers either stared too long or looked away too quickly.
Every morning, I carefully applied the creams and ointments the doctor recommended. I did everything I could to help it heal, but no amount of care could erase the shiny red line or the way it caught the light like a fresh wound. I knew it would fade over time, but it would never fully disappear.
Now, as I stepped onto the plane, I could feel every pair of eyes on me. I swallowed hard and made my way to my seat by the window, my heart pounding.
At least I had boarded early, avoiding the crush of passengers. I put on my headphones and leaned back, letting the music drown out my thoughts. My fingers tightened around my phone as I whispered a silent prayer: Please, let this be a quiet, uneventful flight.
I must have dozed off, because the next thing I heard was a loud, irritated voice.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
My eyes snapped open, and I turned toward the source of the voice. A man stood in the aisle, scowling at the seat next to me.
“Row 5B and 5C,” a woman beside him said in a clipped tone. “This is us. Just sit down.”
With a dramatic sigh, the man sank into his seat, grumbling under his breath. I turned my gaze back to the window, hoping they’d just ignore me.
But then—
“Wait. Are you serious?” the woman muttered, her voice rising. “This has to be some kind of joke.”
I felt her eyes on me before I even turned. My stomach clenched.
The man let out a disgusted sound. “What the hell? We paid for this flight, and now we have to sit next to… that?”
I froze.
“Tom,” the woman whispered, covering her nose with her sleeve. “Oh my God. How did they even let her on the plane like that?”
Heat rushed to my face. I wanted to shrink into my seat, disappear completely.
“Hey, lady!” the man barked.
I turned slowly. His expression twisted in open revulsion as he pointed at me. “Can’t you, I don’t know, cover that up or something?”
For a second, I couldn’t speak.
“Tom,” the woman hissed, shaking her head. “That’s disgusting. I can’t believe they let her sit here.”
“Exactly,” Tom huffed. “This is a public place. People don’t need to see… that.”
I opened my mouth, struggling to find words, but nothing came out.
The woman scoffed. “And she’s just going to sit there like that? Unbelievable.”
Tom leaned into the aisle, waving down a flight attendant. “Hey! Can you do something about this? My girlfriend is freaking out.”
A flight attendant approached, her expression calm but firm. “Is there a problem, sir?”
“Yeah, there’s a problem!” Tom snapped. “Look at her!” He jerked his thumb toward me. “It’s upsetting my girlfriend. Can you move her to the back or something?”
The flight attendant’s eyes flickered to me. Her face softened for a brief moment before she turned back to the man.
“Sir, all passengers are entitled to their seats. Is there something I can help you with?”
“I just told you!” Tom’s voice rose. “She’s sitting there looking like that. It’s gross. She should have to cover it up or move.”
The woman beside him gagged dramatically. “I can’t even look at her. I’m going to throw up.”
The flight attendant straightened, her voice sharp now. “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? Sitting there, making everyone uncomfortable?”
The flight attendant ignored him. She crouched slightly to my level and asked gently, “Miss, are you okay?”
I nodded, barely able to breathe.
The flight attendant stood. “Excuse me for a moment.” She turned and walked toward the cockpit.
Tom muttered something under his breath, shaking his head. The woman huffed and crossed her arms, glaring out the aisle. I clenched my fists in my lap, staring at the seatback in front of me.
Then the intercom crackled.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We’ve been made aware of behavior that does not align with the respectful environment we strive to maintain on this flight. Harassment or discrimination of any kind will not be tolerated. Please treat your fellow passengers with dignity.”
A ripple of whispers moved through the cabin. I caught sight of a man across the aisle shaking his head in disapproval. My stomach twisted.
The flight attendant returned, her voice unwavering. “Mr. and Ms., I’ll need you to move to seats 22B and 22C at the back of the plane.”
Tom’s face turned red. “What? We’re not moving!”
“This is not negotiable,” the flight attendant said. “Your behavior has disrupted this flight, and we need to ensure a comfortable environment for all passengers.”
“This is ridiculous,” the woman huffed, yanking her purse into her lap.
Passengers watched in silence as they stood, grumbling all the way down the aisle. Then, a single clap. Then another. And another.
The sound swelled around me, scattering soft applause throughout the cabin.
The flight attendant turned to me, her expression warm. “Miss, we have an open seat in business class. We’d like to move you there as a gesture of goodwill.”
I hesitated. “I don’t want to cause trouble.”
“You’re not causing trouble,” she said. “Please. Let us take care of you.”
I nodded, whispering, “Thank you.”
As I settled into my new seat, a flight attendant brought me a warm drink and a small bag of cookies. I looked out the window at the endless stretch of clouds. For the first time in weeks, my chest felt lighter.
Maybe my friends were right. Maybe I was still me.
And maybe I was fierce, too.
