My Girlfriend Vanished at 30,000 Feet ,Then I Smiled

From the ticket check to boarding, to settling into my seat, to the cabin doors closing, I documented every single step.

Then I posted a nine-photo grid of us together on Instagram.

Caption: "Boarded! Taking the girlfriend home to meet the family."

The likes and well-wishes poured in almost instantly:

"So sweet! Wishing you both the best!"

"Wow, finally meeting the parents! Congrats!!"

"Safe travels—I'm already looking forward to the wedding reception."

To be extra safe, I had Amy and me pose together holding up our boarding passes, and sent that photo to the family group chat.

"Mom, Dad—Amy and I are on the plane. We land in three hours."

My mom replied within seconds: "Finally getting to meet our future daughter-in-law! Your dad and I already went grocery shopping. We're just waiting for you two to get home!"

Between my mom's reply and the dozens of comments on my post, I finally let out a breath.

No one could possibly claim I didn't have a girlfriend now, right?

When the plane took off, the flight attendant asked everyone to switch their phones to airplane mode, then began distributing beverages.

When she reached our row, Melissa Cobb—just like in my previous life—got bumped by another passenger and accidentally splashed some orange juice on me.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

Melissa apologized profusely, reaching to clean the juice off my shirt.

But Amy beat her to it, grabbing a napkin and gently dabbing at the stain.

"It's fine, I'll take care of my boyfriend."

Melissa thanked her politely, then turned to me with a genuine smile.

"Your girlfriend is really sweet."

I stared hard at Melissa. In my previous life, she'd said the exact same thing—complimented my girlfriend to my face.

But after Amy vanished, when I asked Melissa if she'd seen my girlfriend, she'd looked at me blankly and said:

"Sir, are you sure you're not mistaken?"

"I clearly saw you board alone."

To prevent Melissa from changing her story again, I immediately smiled at her and made a request.

"Could I ask you a small favor?"

Melissa looked at me, puzzled. "What kind of favor?"

I pulled out my phone and said earnestly:

"Today's the first time I'm bringing my girlfriend home to meet my parents. I want to document this trip properly. Would you mind taking a photo with the two of us?"

"Just as a little keepsake."

Melissa nodded without hesitation.

"Of course."

Amy and I posed with Melissa, and the three of us took a photo together.

I saved the picture carefully, then turned my attention to the elderly man sitting closest to us across the aisle—Bertram James, who looked to be nearly seventy.

His seat was the nearest to ours. In my previous life, he'd been bumped by another passenger while looking for his seat and nearly fell. Amy had caught him just in time and helped him back into his seat. He'd thanked her over and over.

So when I'd gone around asking passengers if they'd seen Amy, he was the first person I'd approached.

But he'd insisted that the seat next to mine had been empty the entire flight. That no one had ever sat there.

To make sure Amy left a deeper impression on him this time, I gently tapped Bertram on the shoulder. "Excuse me, sir."

Bertram looked at me, curious. "Yes?"

I pointed at Amy in her seat, putting on a nervous expression.

"I was wondering—what do you think of my girlfriend? How does she look?"

"My parents haven't met her yet, and I'm a little nervous."

Bertram studied Amy for a moment, then nodded approvingly.

"She's a lovely young woman. You two make a wonderful couple."