Working the early shift today. While waiting for passengers to board, I was scrolling through my phone and came across a post: [Question: 8 months pregnant, but the baby most likely has health issues. How can I maximize my profit from this situation?] I frowned. If the baby isn't healthy, don't have it. Maximizing profit? Is this person insane? But the top comment, with dozens of likes, was even more chilling: [Buy a plane ticket. Take labor-inducing drugs right before you board. Make sure you go into labor on the plane.] [Flight attendants aren't doctors. Just blame the baby's condition on whoever helps you.] [Kick up a fuss, get public opinion on your side, and you'll get a huge payout. If you're lucky, you could even use the media attention and your disabled child to become an internet celebrity!] What the hell? Do our lives as flight attendants not matter? Just as I was about to report the post, a message came through on our crew group chat: "Attention crew: a passenger on this flight is 6 months pregnant. Please take note." 1 I'd just replied "Roger that" when the chief purser announced that boarding was beginning. I quickly put my phone away and composed myself. Soon, a pregnant woman, holding the small of her back, walked towards me. Her information had been in the group chat. The disturbing post was still echoing in my mind, but professional habit took over, and I greeted her with a warm smile. "Hello, you must be Ms. Miller, correct? Your seat is right here. If you need anything at all, please don't hesitate to call us." After getting her settled, I breathed a sigh of relief. She seemed pleasant enough, and her belly wasn't that big. I silently chided myself for reading such dark things online. Pregnant passengers were common, and all I needed to do was follow standard procedure. The other passengers began to board in a steady stream. Just as the cabin was nearly full, Ms. Miller suddenly reached out and stopped me. "Excuse me, this seat is a little too small. Can you do something about it?" I paused for a second. "I'm sorry, Ms. Miller, but today's flight is fully booked. There are no extra seats available." "And you're in the first row of economy, which is the most spacious seating in this section." Ms. Miller nodded. "Oh, so it's the most spacious in economy." "Yes, ma'am. Our ground staff specifically arranged this seat for you." After my polite reply, I prepared to continue with pre-flight checks. But Ms. Miller grabbed my sleeve again. "Then why couldn't you put me in business class? Isn't that more spacious?" My stomach dropped. Was she looking for trouble? I kept the smile plastered on my face. "Ms. Miller, business class is a separate ticket purchase. And as I mentioned, today's flight is completely full, so there are no empty seats in business class either." She finally nodded again. "Oh, so no empty seats at all." "That's right, ma'am." Just as I finished speaking, a passenger called for assistance, so I turned and headed towards the back of the cabin. This time, she didn't try to stop me. I let out a quiet sigh of relief. A passenger who could communicate was a good passenger. But just as all the passengers were seated and we were starting to check the overhead bins, I was cornered at the lavatory door. Ms. Miller's gentle expression was gone, replaced by a furious glare. "You lied!" I was taken aback. "Ms. Miller, is there something you need?" "I just went and looked. Business class isn't full at all! Why won't you let me sit there?" I instinctively glanced towards business class, my mind racing as I mentally tallied the passengers. "Ms. Miller, there is a mother in business class who purchased two seats. Her baby is only four months old, so she's holding him. The empty seat you see belongs to the baby." My explanation did nothing to pacify her. She just snorted. "Why does her baby get to sit in business class? I have a baby in my belly, too! Why won't you move me? Her one baby is taking up a whole seat, and I'm two people! Why can't we have a seat?" 2 I patiently explained, "Because she purchased business class tickets. The right to use that seat for this flight belongs to her and her son." "So, she paid for it. I paid for my ticket too, so why can't I?" "I'm sorry, Ms. Miller, but the price for economy and business class is different." "I paid my money! I want to sit in business class!" I forced the smile to stay on my face. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but to sit in business class, you would need to pay the fare difference of three hundred dollars." As soon as I said that, she spun around and stormed off. I sighed internally. Finally, she was gone. I hoped that would be the end of it. But of course, my fears were realized. I had just finished checking one section of overhead bins when I heard a baby wailing from business class. A passenger holding an infant rushed out. "What is wrong with you people? How can you just give away a seat that I paid for?!" "I paid for it first! She says she paid the difference, so she gets to sit there? How can you sell the same seat twice? Are you that desperate for money?" Her outburst drew the attention of the surrounding passengers. Whispers rippled through the cabin. "Seriously? They sold the same seat twice?" "It's probably the baby's seat. They figured the infant wasn't using it, so they could sell it again." "That's just awful!" I frowned. Remembering Ms. Miller's behavior, a sense of dread washed over me. I rushed towards business class. Sure enough, Ms. Miller was already settled in the business class seat. She had even changed into a pair of slippers. Seeing the angry faces of the other business class passengers, I immediately approached her. "Ms. Miller, I've already explained to you, this seat belongs to the little boy next to you. We don't have any available seats in business class." "I have a little one in my belly, too," she retorted. "I'll be gracious and let her little one share the seat with mine." "Besides, you just said I could pay the difference." I was stunned. "Ms. Miller, I said you could pay the difference to upgrade, but I also explained that today's flight is full, so there are no seats available in business class to upgrade to." "Furthermore, we cannot process upgrades once the cabin is fully boarded." Ms. Miller simply ignored me, muttering, "I see an empty seat right here. I'm already being very generous by letting that baby sit with me. Don't push your luck!" Her complete reversal of the situation left me speechless. How did she manage to reply to every sentence without actually addressing anything I said? Did the pregnancy hormones go to her brain? Just as I was about to call for a security officer, Ms. Miller suddenly clutched her stomach. 3 I froze, my eyes instinctively darting to her belly. The post I had read this morning flooded my mind. A sense of alarm shot through me. "Ms. Miller, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?" Without a word, she shot up from her seat and bolted towards the lavatory. I immediately followed, my heart pounding as I stood outside the door. "Ma'am, are you feeling alright? If you're not well, we haven't taken off yet. We can call for the ground medical team." I strained my ears, trying to hear what was happening inside. I could faintly make out the sound of a suppressed moan. The words from this morning's post screamed in my head. It can't be. She's only six months pregnant, right? I can't be this unlucky. As I was debating what to do, the lavatory door swung open. Ms. Miller's face appeared before me. Startled by the sudden movement, I froze for a second before asking, "Should I call the ground medical team for you? We haven't closed the cabin door yet, we can still get you emergency assistance." But Ms. Miller's face was a mask of fury. "Emergency assistance? Are you sick? Are you trying to jinx my baby? It was just morning sickness! What's all the fuss about?" "But..." "But nothing! I'm tired. Get me a blanket. I need to rest." "Of course, ma'am." Watching her walk back to her seat in the first row of economy, a deep sense of unease washed over me. One minute she was demanding a business class seat, and the next, everything was fine? People don't change that quickly. But her belly... it really didn't look that big. Not like someone who was over eight months pregnant. Maybe I was just overthinking things. Just as I was grabbing a blanket to take to her, a colleague next to me let out a soft gasp. I instinctively turned to look. She rushed out of the lavatory, her face pale. "Blood! Why is there blood in the lavatory?" My blood ran cold. I ran inside. Sure enough, there was a ring of blood on the floor next to the toilet. My mind raced, replaying who had used the lavatory recently. Three men and Vivian Miller. That ruled out a period. Could it be... As I cleaned the floor, I pulled out my phone and opened the post from this morning. As soon as I saw it, my face fell. The post had been updated. [What do I do? The plane hasn't even taken off yet, and I don't think I can hold it in anymore! I'm already bleeding a little!] [If I go into labor now, won't the flight attendants just call a doctor? Then they'll find out what's wrong with my baby!] A new comment had appeared right below it: [Has the cabin door closed yet? If it has, you're fine. It takes them time to reopen it, so a doctor won't be able to get on board in time!] [I suggest you wait until the door is closed, then start pushing. The plane will still be on the ground. That way, by the time the flight attendant delivers the baby, the paramedics will have arrived, and you'll get immediate medical care.] [You get to pass the blame and get medical help! It's a win-win!] With every sentence I read, my expression grew darker. The comment had been posted just three minutes ago. Was this really just a coincidence? Just then, I spotted a folded piece of paper in the corner. I picked it up instinctively. When I unfolded it and saw what it was, my mind went blank. 4 It was a prenatal check-up report, but the date was from two months ago. It looked like it had been left in a pocket and gone through the wash, so the ink was faded and blurry. But I could clearly make out the name: Vivian Miller. Two months ago, she was 24 weeks pregnant. That meant she was now over 32 weeks pregnant. It matched. It matched the post. So now I could be certain: Vivian Miller had lied about how far along she was. Domestic airlines don't have strict restrictions on pregnant passengers, so her lying about her due date was highly suspicious. Eight months. A baby with health problems. Stomach pain. Bleeding... The keywords swirled in my head. I took a deep breath to calm myself and typed a reply to the post on my phone: [As a mother, aren't you heartbroken that your child isn't healthy? How can you be thinking about profiting from your child's suffering?] [And the flight attendants are trying to help you, yet you want to harm them? That's repaying kindness with evil!] After sending the comment, I heard the announcement to prepare for cabin door closure in my earpiece. Damn it, I thought, and sprinted towards the door. If the door closed, it would be just like the post said. Reopening it would take time, and we would be forced to deliver the baby ourselves. I reached the cabin door just as my colleague was securing the safety latch. I grabbed her arm. "Wait! Just a little longer!" She looked at me, confused. "Wait for what? It's time!" Although I was almost certain Vivian Miller was the one who wrote the post, a small part of me held onto a sliver of hope. What if it wasn't her? As I was trying to stall for time, my phone buzzed. The post had been updated again: [Of course you can say that, you're not in my shoes! I don't even know who the father of this baby is! Are you going to raise it for me?!] [I was originally planning on selling it. I even had a buyer lined up. Then the check-up revealed the problems. What rotten luck! I had to return the deposit!] [This baby owes me that money!] [And I can't stand flight attendants anyway. They act so high and mighty, but they're just glorified waitresses. What makes them any different from the rest of us working-class stiffs?] [Isn't there a popular saying online? 'I am myself first, and then a mother.' Since this baby isn't going to live, it might as well become fertilizer for my life!] A surge of raw fury erupted within me. Not everyone deserves to be a mother. Now I was sure. This person was Vivian Miller. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. Then I contacted the captain directly. "We have a passenger going into labor. Please contact the control tower immediately!" My colleagues all stared at me, bewildered. "The only pregnant passenger we have is six months along. How could she be going into labor?" I was about to pull out the crumpled prenatal report from my pocket when a panicked voice came through my earpiece. "The head! The baby's head is coming out!"
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