Diana had lost track of how long she’d been staring at her phone, willing a single bar of reception to appear. Her hand throbbed, fingers locked in a rigid grip. A sheen of sweat had formed where the phone pressed hard against her palm.

Her eyes flicked between the empty space where the signal bars should have been and the message occupying the center of the screen. She read it again—probably the hundredth time—but each repetition twisted the knife slightly differently.

At first, the words had stunned her into numbness. Then denial set in, followed by a hollow ache. Now, only rage remained—a slow, simmering fury.

I’ve found someone else. It was fun.

Tears traced furious lines down her cheeks as she read it again. Her breath hitched, not from sorrow, but from the sharp sting of betrayal. Jacob. The boy who’d whispered that he loved her. The one she’d imagined studying A-Levels with. Her first kiss.

Her first heartbreak.

But the fury burning in her chest wasn’t just for him. No, the deeper wound came from the girl sitting beside Jacob in his new profile picture. Her best friend. The one she’d grown up with, trusted like a sister. The one she’d told everything.

Her thumb hovered over the “Send” button. She had rewritten her response more times than she could count—first begging him to reconsider, then raging, finally settling on a single question.

How could you both do this to me?

She stared at the top of the screen, pleading with the universe.

Just one bar. I need one stupid bar.

“Diana,” the voice floated from the front of the plane, cutting gently through her focus. “Three miles to go.”

She didn’t answer. Didn’t even blink. Just held the phone as though stillness might coax a miracle to give her what she wanted.

“There’s no reception out here,” the voice continued.

A small nod. She’d heard him. She just didn’t care.

“You won’t get a signal until we’re back in town.”

She knew he was right, but hope clung to her like a parasite. If she didn’t send the message now, they’d think she’d accepted it. That she didn’t care.

Around her, the world slowly filtered back in. The hum of the engine throbbed through the cabin. The propeller’s rhythmic drone blurred into the soft whooshing of air flowing over the wings. The plane rocked gently in the wind.

Finally, she peeled her eyes from the screen. The interior of the small plane looked strangely familiar, like she was waking from a dream. Pain shot through her hand as she loosened her grip on the phone. She flexed her fingers, wincing, before wiping her sweaty palm on her trousers.

“If you want to see the landing strip, come up to the co-pilot’s seat,” the pilot offered.

She nodded—not to him, but to herself. A silent surrender. The message would go unsent. She imagined Jacob and Olivia waiting side-by-side for her response, watching the screen in smug silence. The longer they waited, the more smug and self assured they would be.

Unbuckling her harness, she slid out of the seat, ducking her head to avoid the ceiling. She placed one hand against the roof for balance and shuffled to the front, collapsing into the empty co-pilot’s seat.

“Harness,” the voice reminded her.

Bucking the harness, her eyes focused on the world on the other side of the cockpit window. Outside, endless green stretched to the horizon, an unbroken canopy of jungle. The plane’s shadow skimmed across it like a giant black bird in front of them.

Heading west.

The thought emerged uninvited from some deep recess of her brain. Having made itself known, the thought then it vanished, drowned out by images of Jacob—smiling, touching her hand, lying.

A tear formed at the corner of her eye before she wiped it away.

She searched for the signs she should have seen. Clues that she’d been a fool. Had it been obvious? Had everyone else known? How long had it been going on for?

Suddenly, a burst of colour erupted from the canopy below. A flock of brightly coloured birds lifted from the trees, scattering across the sky. The plane tilted sharply left, then right. She grabbed at the seat to steady herself as the sound of thuds against the fuselage softly filled the air—then not so softly.

Feathers and… other things… splattered against the window.

“Sorry about that,” the pilot muttered. His voice held a hint of genuine regret. “It happens sometimes.”

Turning to look at him, she tried to ignore the red smears on the glass.

“How far do we have to go?”

“About a mile and a half.”

Looking towards the horizon, the jungle still stretched endlessly toward the horizon. There was no sign of a break in it. No sign of where they could land.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” the pilot said. “What’s with the camo gear?”

She blinked, disoriented. “What?”

“The camo. Most kids I fly wear jeans and T-shirts.”

Smoke puffed from the engine cowling. Slow. Lazy.

“I’m in the Army Cadets,” she said. “Figured it’d be more practical. I also didn’t want to ruin my good clothes.”

The pilot nodded. “Makes sense. What got you into that? Not exactly the go-to club for kids of your age these days.”

He glanced at the phone still clutched in her hand, his smile tilting wryly. “You’re all more interested in screens than mud.”

“My dad,” she said, turning back to the window as the wind blowing over it removed the last hints of red. “He wants me to follow in his footsteps and be an archaeologist. Thinks cadets will help.”

“You don’t sound thrilled.”

She shrugged. “I like the structure. Makes sense, you know? The unit is attached to The Royal Corps of Signals, so we’ve been learning a lot about computers, communications, and how to use them in the field. Power management, cabling, using a compass to align the masts in the right direction. I really enjoy those parts of it. It’s just the whole crawling-around-in-the-mud, pretending to shoot at things. I don’t find that fun, or interesting.”

More smoke now. Thicker. Rising faster.

“When Dad talks about the trips he goes on,” she continued, “there seems to be a lot of mud and dirt. Then there’s the thought of just digging holes and brushing dust off bones. Living in tents. Limited facilities. Washing in buckets.” She stared down at the phone clutched in her hand. “No internet.”

“Does your dad know how you feel?”

She hesitated. “Not yet. I’m planning to tell him this week.”

“I’m sure he’ll understand. Maybe you’ll change you mind once you’ve seen the pyramid.”

“I doubt it. I went with him to Egypt once. I’ve seen a pyramid.”

The pilot tapped at the instrument panel. “We’re about a mile out. Ten minutes.”

“I thought about joining the military once,” he confessed, his eyes concentrating on the dials. “My father and brother served. I just didn’t like the look of those obstacles courses they make you clamber over. How are you finding them?”

“They’re OK, I guess, not one of my favourite activities. Doing gymnastics helps when it’s dry to get over it. When it’s not, they are worse than crawling around in the mud.”

The engine’s steady hum faltered. A cough. A stutter. The smoke turned charcoal grey.

“Okay, kiddo. Time to buckle up. Engine’s running hot. Might be a bumpy landing.”

She looked again. Still no break in the trees. No landing strip.

“Diana. In the back.”

Unlocking the harness, she hurriedly shuffled back to her seat. Just as she reached it, the plane lurched sideways. She fell into the seat, wrestling the harness over her shoulders, and yanked the straps tight.

Through the front window, smoke now billowed, thick and angry. She could barely see through it.

From the cockpit, the pilot’s voice cracked with urgency. “Come on, old girl. Come on…”

She pulled the straps tighter. Her fingers burned, but she didn’t stop.

“Don’t do this now,” he muttered. “Just ten more minutes…”

Through the side window, the jungle was rising. Fast. The green blur resolved into individual trees. Branches. Leaves.

“Diana! Hold on tight back there!” His voice snapped through the roar. “We’re not going to make it!”