The moment the plane stalled and entered a nosedive, my boyfriend—the captain—instinctively called out to his co-pilot, his "first love": "If we really end up buried in the same piece of earth, I guess this counts as growing old together, doesn't it?" Later, their textbook emergency landing became a legendary tale in the aviation world, while I, the air traffic controller who guided them from the tower, voluntarily resigned. A long time later, we crossed paths again. It was a flight he was commanding. Over the cabin PA, he announced that he had been waiting for someone to come home. I stood at the end of the jet bridge, waiting for him to disembark. When he finally appeared, I smiled and asked: "Captain Carter, haven't you and Ms. Davis picked out a plot together yet? Are you short on cash for the urns?" 1 I met Ryan Carter in college. I had just graduated and was assigned to the busiest air traffic control tower in the country, Chicago O'Hare. During the evening rush hour, a massive thunderstorm hit. Two planes, circling in the holding pattern, started arguing over the radio about who had priority to land. "Alright, that's enough! Yelling until your voices are hoarse isn't going to help. You're two grown men flying commercial airliners, are you really arguing like children up there? You're in a hurry? We're in a bigger hurry down here in the tower!" Ryan's cool, deep voice cut through the radio waves, carrying a powerful, calming energy that instantly settled my nerves. He was a prodigy pilot for Horizon Air, promoted to Captain in just his fourth year, yet he only flew the most grueling, exhausting short-haul domestic routes. During every shift we shared, I'd hear him over the radio: "Good morning, O'Hare," "Good afternoon," "Good evening." Later, it evolved into: "Good evening. I'll wait for you, let's go home together." I was the one who confessed my feelings first. We lived together for five years. He was the perfect boyfriend—tall, handsome, gentle, and incredibly disciplined. Even when flying red-eye routes, surrounded by female colleagues offering him snacks and coffee, he would only drink the terrible, bitter ginger tea I made for him. "I'm spoken for. I have someone waiting for me at home. I'll have to pass on the treats." Ryan's phone was always open to me. We shared our schedules, our locations, and our social circles. I thought there were no secrets between us. But on an ordinary morning, during a lull in air traffic, my trainee suddenly leaned over with some gossip: "Hey, did you know that the gorgeous co-pilot flying with your boyfriend today is Chloe Davis? I heard she's a legend. She turned down offers from Delta and United just to fly for Horizon. She's so badass, I love her." I froze for a second, asking him to repeat the co-pilot's name. Chloe. It wasn't an uncommon name, but it immediately triggered a memory. It was the name that had been sitting in the background banner of Ryan's Facebook profile for five years. Ryan rarely posted, but I had once asked him about the tiny text in the bottom right corner of his banner image: "Wait, Chloe." He just smiled, brushed it off, and said he just thought the picture looked cool. I didn't want to overthink it, but could it really just be a coincidence? "Flight HZ3400? HZ3400, if you copy, please respond. Can anyone on this frequency try to hail HZ3400?" My trainee's frantic voice snapped me back to reality. My eyes shot to the radar screen. HZ3400, which should have been cruising at 35,000 feet and had just entered O'Hare airspace, had suddenly lost contact with the ground and was rapidly losing altitude. And that was the flight Ryan was commanding. 2 "HZ3400, if you copy, please respond. Your altitude is dropping rapidly. HZ3400, can you hear me?" My trainee's voice was shaking uncontrollably. He looked at me, his eyes pleading for help. In those crucial ten seconds, my mind went completely blank. Relying purely on muscle memory, I took over his headset and microphone. I repeated the call sign over and over, operating like a precision machine, flawlessly executing the emergency protocols drilled into me from the manual. The altitude kept dropping. The moment ground fire and EMS crews were dispatched to the runway, the image of Ryan hugging me before he left for work flashed in my mind: "If your cold gets worse, just call out sick. Sleep in, and I'll make you some soup when I get home tonight." If he and the hundreds of living, breathing people on that plane disappeared right in front of my eyes... I knew I would have a complete mental breakdown right there in the tower. Static. Then, HZ3400's radio crackled to life. I immediately initiated contact, transmitting crucial information and requesting the status of the aircraft and passengers. But despite my repeated questions, the only thing that came through the radio was Ryan's deep, emotional murmur: "Chloe, if we really end up buried in the same piece of earth, I guess this counts as growing old together, doesn't it?" The signal was terrible, the audio was weak, but to me, it was deafening. Responsibility. Duty. In that moment, it seemed they had abandoned it all. He was willing to intertwine his fate with hers, to follow her into death. So what did that make me? And what about the hundreds of lives on board? Were they just giving up on them? 3 At 5:30 AM, HZ3400 executed a miraculous, textbook emergency landing at O'Hare, pushing the aircraft to its absolute limits. The flight crew's god-tier maneuvers instantly went viral, becoming the explosive headline of the day. But what immediately followed was an investigation and a search for accountability. The O'Hare tower was downgraded to a regional control center. This should have had absolutely nothing to do with us, but because the incident occurred within my trainee's frequency block, and because I subsequently took over, we were mandated to participate in the investigation to provide a transparent account to the public. Following the accident, both Ryan and I were too overwhelmed to contact each other. Our first meeting was a full 24 hours later, when the entire flight crew and tower staff were convened to reconstruct the events. That's when I finally met Chloe Davis. She had a sharp bob, pale skin, and striking features. Her sharp eyebrows gave her a commanding presence, yet there was a subtle, feminine softness to her. When asked if the tower had transmitted the correct information, Chloe decisively shook her head: "I didn't hear it. Or rather, I didn't have time to listen to that garbage." Chloe sat up straight, speaking bluntly without hesitation: "I'm a straight shooter, so I'll just say it. The female voice from the tower was disorganized, her technical proficiency was severely lacking, and she sounded like she was trying to use a cutesy 'baby voice' to flirt. In an emergency situation, it severely impacted my judgment." "What do you mean you didn't hear it? Why are you slandering my mentor? She was speaking completely normally! That wasn't a 'baby voice'!" I put a hand on my trainee's shoulder to calm him down, my gaze instinctively shifting to Ryan. He was sitting rigidly upright. From the moment he walked in, his eyes had been blankly fixed on the table, and he actively avoided making eye contact with me several times. I was certain he heard my calls over the radio, and he knew I had heard his confession to Chloe. That's why he was avoiding me. But the next second, he spoke softly: "I apologize. I was entirely focused on the emergency landing. I don't remember anything else." The truth was, the tower had the complete audio recording to back me up. But the flight crew's conflicting statements and Chloe's baseless accusations would inevitably prolong the investigation and generate negative press. From the moment Ryan gave that response, I knew our relationship was over. 4 [Mentor, I'm so scared. The tower looks like they're going to hold someone accountable. I just graduated, I don't want to lose my job... My parents are sick and need money, what am I going to do...] I hadn't gone home that day. I spent two days passed out in an airport hotel. When I finally woke up, the only message on my phone was from my trainee. My chat with Ryan was completely empty. Opening social media, the news was absolutely saturated with interviews featuring Ryan and Chloe. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the sunlight, accepting endless praise and gratitude. The narrative was that they were college alumni who had faced death together, sharing an extraordinary, unspoken bond. Meanwhile, the hashtag "#OHareTowerIncompetence" was trending in the top fifteen. Clicking on it revealed a flood of hateful comments: [Did Chloe mention someone using a 'baby voice'? The ATC tower is a serious, high-stress environment. Who the hell was she trying to flirt with? Is she there to work or to pick up men?] [Let me put on my tinfoil hat for a second. Could the incident be related to the 'baby voice'? Was she trying to compete with Chloe for male attention, so she deliberately withheld information?] [Do the people above me have any common sense? The actual audio hasn't been released yet. How can you just blindly accuse someone?] [Are the male captain and Chloe a thing? Chloe is so badass and straightforward, but the way the captain looks at her is definitely not purely professional.] ... Because of Chloe's "accidental" slip of the tongue, even before the investigation concluded, public pressure was forcing the FAA to penalize the "baby voice" controller and issue a public apology. And we all knew that cockpit voice recordings are rarely released to the public. Even if internal reviews cleared me, they had to give the public a scapegoat. Chloe was clearly targeting me. [What are you afraid of? The online hate is directed at me. It has nothing to do with you. Just focus on your work.] I replied to my trainee, then proceeded to delete Ryan's number and block him on everything. I submitted my resignation, turned off my phone, and booked a flight out of the country for a vacation. She really went out of her way. If Chloe wanted a toxic, garbage man that badly, I was more than happy to wrap him up and hand him over. Five days later, a text from an unknown number popped up on my screen: [Give me a little time. Chloe is... different from other people. But our relationship isn't what you think it is. I just need time to figure out my own feelings.] [I don't have time.] [What about the apartment? And all your stuff? Are you just abandoning it?] [The lease isn't up yet, do whatever you want with it. Throw my stuff away. I don't need the money.] [And what about me? Are you abandoning me too?] I hesitated for a moment before sending my final reply: [Before you ask other people that, take a hard look in the mirror and ask yourself if you even deserve me.] 5 It was a funny coincidence. On my very first day abroad, I ran into someone I knew: Liam Sterling. Four or five professional cameras were set up on the beach. He was leaning casually against the trunk of a weeping willow, posing for a shoot. Dressed in flowing white linen, his slightly wavy hair caught the ocean breeze. He looked like the moon over a mountain or fresh snow on a sunny day—his smile radiating a youthful, effortless charisma. Curious, I stopped to watch for a moment. Liam spotted me instantly and started waving frantically, calling me over like an oversized, over-excited Golden Retriever. We walked to a quiet corner to chat. After exchanging some brief pleasantries, he cut straight to the chase: "I couldn't reach you on your phone! I need a huge favor, Maya!" (Maya translates to Tang Xian) The Sterling and Miller (Tang) families were old family friends. We were both the youngest children in our respective families, enjoying the most freedom within our wealthy households. Whether he chose to be an A-list actor or I chose to be a modestly paid air traffic controller, no one intervened. Since Liam’s acting career blew up, we rarely kept in touch. But right now, he looked desperate enough to hug my leg and beg: "I just want to focus on acting, but my agency keeps forcing me into fake showmance PR stunts! Please pretend to be my civilian girlfriend and help me out! Out of everyone I know, you're the only one I trust!" "A celebrity wanting to publicly date?" "I don't rely on rabid fangirls for my career. Can't a normal 27-year-old guy have a 28-year-old civilian girlfriend?" I was still hesitating when my phone rang. It was the director of the ATC tower, sounding frantic: "Maya! Did I approve your resignation? I haven't retired yet, since when is it your turn to resign and take the fall for this?!" "Get your ass back here and clock in! When the investigation results come out, we're going to slap those bastards right in the face!" So I could go back? Alright then. If there was a turning point, I was going to make sure they paid the price. Nobody gets off easy! With that in mind, I smiled and playfully tipped Liam's chin up: "I'll help you, and you'll help me." 6 Aviation accident investigations take a long time, but the HZ3400 crew's incredible emergency landing was an undeniable fact, and they received a public commendation. Horizon Air announced that the two captains preferred to keep a low profile and declined further media coverage, which surprisingly earned them another wave of public goodwill. Correspondingly, Maya Miller from the O'Hare Tower was issued one formal demerit. The Tower Director received a severe demerit and a formal reprimand. The specific reasons weren't made public, but everyone internally knew it was done purely to placate the media. On my first day back at work after the scandal, I had barely finished my evening shift when I was dragged out to a coffee shop for a get-together. The flight crews that frequently flew through O'Hare had a private group chat. We were all pretty close, and everyone was concerned about how I was holding up. As I approached the semi-private booth, a loud, hearty laugh reached my ears. Chloe was there. Her blunt, "open" personality made her very popular in these circles. She easily became "one of the guys," and she was currently recounting the story of the emergency landing. When I appeared, the atmosphere went dead silent for a second. Chloe, holding an iced Americano, generously pulled me into a seat, telling me not to be shy: "Since we're all here today, let me formally apologize to Maya." Chloe spoke before I could, a playful smirk dancing on her lips: "I haven't been back in the States for long, and my communication skills aren't great. I'm a bit too blunt. I just felt that Ms. Miller's voice was incredibly sweet. I had no idea using the wrong words in an interview would cause such a massive headache for her. Please forgive me!" The two female flight attendants at the table remained silent, but the group of male pilots clearly ate up Chloe's act. They eagerly jumped in to smooth things over, saying it was all water under the bridge. They hadn't heard the cockpit voice recording. Of course they thought it was fine. "Captain Davis is so young and accomplished. How could I hold a grudge? But no matter how blunt your personality is, when you're flying into O'Hare, you still have to follow ATC instructions. We have a long road ahead of us." Chloe froze for a moment, then replied with thinly veiled sarcasm: "I was just making a little joke with Ms. Miller. Why so serious? Ms. Miller seems like she has quite a temper, huh? Come on, guys, teach me how to handle her so I can land safely! I'm so scared she's going to direct me straight into Lake Michigan, haha!" However, when she finished, the male pilots didn't laugh. The atmosphere instantly turned icy. After a brief silence, Captain Davis from TransGlobal Airlines spoke up, his tone serious: "Chloe, some jokes shouldn't be made. Maya's competence is undeniable. Even with a 102-degree fever, she can flawlessly guide planes in during the evening rush. You don't know her, so don't make careless comments." Chloe immediately took a sip of her coffee to hide her embarrassment. I casually remarked: "Captain Davis is quite confident. Badmouthing me right in front of my friends? I guess that's just your 'blunt personality,' haha." The group chuckled coldly in agreement. Chloe bit her lower lip in humiliation, her knuckles turning white around her coffee cup. Several flight crews had to leave for their shifts. As they departed, no one even glanced in her direction. The next crew to land was Horizon Air. Ryan was slowly walking over, dragging his flight bag. Chloe's eyes lit up instantly: "Ryan, over here! Wow, hurry up and translate for me! My English isn't great, and I think I accidentally offended someone!" 7 Ryan didn't hesitate: "Chloe hasn't been back in the country long. If she misspoke, don't take it to heart. She didn't mean any harm." Most of the pilots who had been chatting earlier had already left. Chloe boldly leaned against Ryan's shoulder, spouting nonsense: "Exactly! I don't even know what I said to upset Ms. Miller. I didn't mean any harm!" Ryan's body stiffened as his eyes found me sitting in the corner. For a moment, he looked completely panicked. A flight attendant named Lily spoke up: "Chloe, do you think we're deaf? Is that really what you said earlier?" Chloe didn't care. She even shot me a provocative look. It was Ryan's subconscious trust and protectiveness that gave her the confidence to show off. She acted like a victor returning home after five years, easily reclaiming the man's heart. I lowered my eyes, grabbed Lily's hand, and smiled: "Since the main characters are all here, why don't we ask them to tell us the story of what happened that day?" Ryan hadn't expected me to bring it up. He instinctively frowned. "I was losing my mind in the tower that day. I kept calling HZ3400, asking if they could hear me, asking for their status. And then, guess how Captain Carter responded?" In a flash, everyone's eyes locked onto Ryan. His hesitation made Chloe suddenly panic. She instinctively gripped her coffee cup tighter. "What did you say, Captain Carter? Tell us about your heroic deeds." The air was silent for a long time. Uncharacteristically, Ryan took three large gulps of his iced Americano before speaking in a devastatingly hoarse voice: "I reported the aircraft's status... and then focused entirely on managing the emergency. Nothing else." If emotions had a sound, Chloe's internal breakdown in that moment would have been deafening. She could no longer maintain her fake smile. The corners of her eyes turned a tearful, humiliated shade of red. Remember this: a cowardly, indecisive, toxic man will hurt the next woman exactly the same way he hurt you. And the debt you two owe me? We're far from settled.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "434850", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel