Stella finally managed to settle down in the business class section of the airplane. Yet, a gentleman seated beside her was not pleased. “I don’t want to sit next to…her!” exclaimed Franklin Delaney at the flight attendant who had guided Stella to her seat right next to him.

The flight attendant maintained a calm demeanor, gently responding, “Sir, this is your assigned seat. There is nothing we can do about it.” Despite her efforts, the businessman wore a disgruntled expression.

Franklin wasn’t backing down. “This seat is way too pricey! There’s no way she could have afforded it! Just look at her clothes!” he almost shouted, pointing at Stella’s unassuming attire.

Stella felt belittled. These were, in fact, her finest clothes, worn with the deepest respect, yet her appearance seemed to draw unwanted scrutiny from other passengers in business class. A few joined Franklin in asserting that Stella did not belong there.

Others turned to watch the commotion, and Stella Taylor, the elderly woman, tried to ignore the humiliation burning across her face. The boarding process was delayed as more flight attendants arrived to simmer down the situation. While Franklin adamantly declared Stella’s place was elsewhere, the poor lady spoke up.

“It’s alright, miss,” Stella addressed the attendant with a gentle touch on her arm as she offered, “If there’s an available economy seat, I will take it. I saved every penny for this ticket, but it’s better for everyone if I move.” Her humility was palpable.

The flight attendant was resolute. Displaying Stella’s ticket, she confirmed that this was indeed her assigned seat and she deserved it. Turning her stern gaze to Franklin, she warned him that airport security would be called if necessary. With a heavy sigh, Franklin relented, allowing Stella to occupy the seat.

Gathering a deep breath as the plane took off, Stella’s fear was briefly evident as her bag slipped to the floor. Franklin, showing a glimpse of decency, helped gather her belongings. When a ruby laden locket fell out, his eyes widened, “Wow, that’s something remarkable.”

Curious yet cautious, Stella questioned, “What do you mean?”

“I deal with antique jewelry, and this locket is incredibly valuable. I bet those are real rubies, aren’t they?” Franklin replied, handing the locket back to her.

Stella held it more carefully. “Honestly, I don’t know. My father gave it to my mother many years ago, and then she passed it on to me when he never returned home,” she explained softly.

“What happened to him?” Franklin asked, a hint of remorse in his voice over his earlier behavior. “Sorry for asking. I’m Franklin Delaney, by the way. I shouldn’t have reacted that way earlier. Life’s a bit complicated at the moment. Can you tell me about your father?”

“He was a fighter pilot during World War II. When America joined the war, he left with this locket as a promise of return. They were deeply in love. I was only four years old and remember vividly. Sadly, he never came back,” Stella recounted.

Franklin was visibly moved. “That’s tragic.”

“Yes, it is. War is quite senseless. It hardly brings any good. My mother was never the same afterward. She struggled to make ends meet. Despite hardships, she never considered selling it, and later, she entrusted it to me. Its true worth lies inside,” Stella explained tenderly, opening the locket to display two photographs – one sepia-toned of a couple, the other depicting a child. “Those are my parents. They loved each other dearly.”

Silent, Franklin studied the locket. “Is that your grandchild?” he asked, pointing at the child in the picture.

“No,” Stella chuckled gently. “That’s my son and hence why I’m on this flight.”

“Are you visiting him?” Franklin inquired, intrigued.

“Not exactly,” she replied thoughtfully. “You’ve mentioned financial troubles, and that’s my gist too. I was pregnant many years ago, at thirty, when my fiancé vanished. Raising my son alone was impossible, especially with no backing. My mother had been gone, afflicted by dementia, and so, I gave him up for adoption.”

“Have you reconnected since?” he asked curiously.

Stella shook her head. “I tried. Found him through DNA tests and had a neighbor help me email him. His name, Josh, he declined interest in meeting me. Despite repeated efforts, he rarely responded further.”

Franklin scratched his head, bewildered. “But why are you here now if he’s not responding? You said it’s for him.”

“John, my son, he’s piloting this flight. I’m here because today’s his birthday – January 22, 1973. My time is perhaps short, and I wanted to be near him…just once more,” Stella’s eyes moistened, reminiscing as Franklin listened intently.

John finished piloting, stepping out of the cockpit protocol breach aside, and walked straight to Stella with open arms. Enveloped in their embrace, passengers and crew applauded and cheered.

While it was whispered softly, John’s gratitude, “Thank you for giving me life,” lingered in Stella’s heart.

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