By the time Maya reached the airport, the departure hall had settled into its late evening rhythm. Suitcase wheels rattled across the tiles. Announcements rose through the high ceiling, each one polished and calm, no matter how many people were running beneath it. The air smelled of coffee, rain caught in coats, and the sharp citrus cleaner used on the floor.
Sherina stood beside the check-in screens with a folder pressed against her chest. She had managed supplier relationships for years and travelled with the steady patience of someone who expected delays. Michael waited near the baggage scale. His jacket hung over one arm, and his phone stayed in his other hand. He looked up only when Maya approached with a laptop bag, a sample case, and a suitcase packed so tightly that the zip had begun to curve.
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