Hamza, oblivious to the tragedy unfolding thousands of miles away, was anxiously trying to contact his parents. Their flight to England was scheduled for refueling, and by now, he assumed they should have landed safely. He wasn’t overly worried—at least, not yet.
Arriving at the airport with Silva, his father’s close friend who had picked him up upon his arrival in the United States, Hamza felt a mix of excitement and unease.
Seated in the waiting lounge, Hamza turned to Silva. “I haven’t been able to reach my parents. Have you tried calling them?”
Silva nodded, his expression calm but concerned. “Yes, I tried earlier. The call didn’t go through—just said ‘no service.’ But don’t worry, Hamza. They’ll be landing any moment now.”
Hamza nodded, trying to suppress his nervous energy. “I can’t wait any longer,” he admitted with a faint smile.
Silva chuckled. “It’s obvious. Your excitement is written all over your face.”