“I hate flying,” said the woman beside me, sighing. “But driving? That’s worse. I should have stayed home.” I almost laughed in agreement. Turbulence rattled through the cabin, sending jolts of panic into my chest 💨😨.

And then I felt it—a gaze, sharp and unrelenting, drilling into my back. I turned slowly. A man a few rows behind was staring at me, eyes intense, calculating. My skin prickled, but I tried to ignore him.

Ten minutes after takeoff, a flight attendant approached, her expression hard 👀. “Excuse me, ma’am. Follow me,” she commanded. My heart pounded as I unbuckled and followed her to a small area near the restrooms. The moment we stopped, her demeanor shifted, rigid and menacing.

“Kneel. Now!” she barked.

“What? Why? What’s going on?” I cried, utterly stunned.