“Excuse me,” I said as calmly as I could manage. “I believe those are our seats.”
The woman looked up at me.
First at my face.
Then at the sleeping newborn on my chest.
Then at Maya.
And then she pulled her noise-canceling headphones back over her ears.
“I’m already comfortable,” she replied without moving an inch.
I pulled out our paper boarding passes.
“These are our assigned seats. 11A and 11B.”
She slid one headphone down and let out an annoyed sigh.
“It’s always the same thing with mothers,” she scoffed. “You have kids and suddenly you think the whole world owes you a sacrifice.”
Maya looked down at the floor, shrinking slightly.
Leo stirred against my chest.
I gently rested my palm against his back so he wouldn’t wake up.
A flight attendant approached, noticing the aisle line was backing up.
She checked my boarding passes, then the woman’s pass, and her expression tightened into that tense, familiar look of a customer service worker who just uncovered a problem and knows no solution will make everyone happy.
“It looks like there was a double assignment on this seat,” the flight attendant murmured.
“I paid extra for these specific seats,” I stated firmly.
“I understand, ma’am,” she replied in a hushed tone. “There is another open seat three rows back. If you could move back there so we can finish boarding…”
I stared at her in total disbelief.
“You want me to leave my ten-year-old daughter sitting next to a stranger?”
The flight attendant swallowed hard.
“We’ll keep a close eye on her. The flight is already delayed, and the other passenger is refusing to move.”
The woman in 11A let out a dry laugh.
“Of course I refuse. I was here first. Besides, the girl is big enough. Sitting three rows away from her mom isn’t going to k*ll her.”
Behind us, someone let out a heavy sigh.
Another passenger muttered loudly that we were going to miss our departure slot because of this.
I felt heat rush to my face — not out of embarrassment, but out of pure, simmering rage.
