Honeymoon

Ellen finished packing her things with heart racing with excitement. She wore a floral dress that she thought would suit their destination perfectly. She couldn't hide her smile as she thought everything through. This would be her first time flying and traveling somewhere completely new.

She used to only be able to read or watch videos online, watching people travel and enjoy themselves, feeling both jealous and pity for herself. During the time she packed, she searched about Bali, their destination, and it indeed looked like a beautiful place. But Ellen wondered why her father called Mason and not her.

She tried to hide her smile, suppressing her happiness before opening the door. She didn't want to give the impression she was happy about this trip in front of Mason, who might misinterpret it as her being thrilled about a honeymoon with him. She stepped out of the room with her luggage. In the living room, Mason was already there, waiting.

Seeing Ellen, Mason said, "Let's go," in his usual curt tone. He walked out to the car, opening the trunk and helping Ellen put her luggage inside. Ellen noticed that Mason's own luggage was already there.

The drive to the airport was as silent as ever, but she decided to break it, even if just a little.

"How long will we be gone?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"A week," Mason replied without looking at her.

Ellen nodded, thinking to herself that she already knew that but just wanted to make sure. She turned back to look out her window, her thoughts a mix of anticipation and anxiety. She couldn't help but feel a bit more excited. A week in Bali sounded like a dream, even if it was with Mason.

At the airport, everything was already arranged. They moved through the process smoothly, thanks to her father's meticulous planning. Before she knew it, they were boarding the plane.

But it wasn't just a plane. It was a private plane. Ellen's eyes widened as they approached it. She turned to Mason, her mouth slightly opened. "Is this yours?" she asked, her voice tinged with awe.

"Yeah," Mason replied nonchalantly, as if owning a private plane was the most ordinary thing in the world.

Ellen couldn't help but think to herself just how rich Mason Coldwell really was. She glanced back at him, still processing the sheer extravagance of it all. Mason noticed her lingering gaze and raised an eyebrow. "What?" he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and mild irritation.

Ellen shook her head quickly. "Nothing," she said, feeling a bit foolish. She followed Mason as he walked towards the plane. They were greeted by the steward and stewardess, both of whom addressed her as Mrs. Coldwell. The formal address made Ellen's heart skip a beat; she still wasn't used to it.

They took their seats inside the luxurious cabin. At first, Ellen wasn't sure where to sit, but she ended up sitting beside Mason, who had already pulled out a book and was engrossed in it. She marveled at the plush seats and the spaciousness of the cabin.

As the plane began to take off, Ellen felt a mix of excitement and fear. She held onto the arm of her seat tightly, her knuckles turning white. She took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. The thought of how fun the trip could be competed with her anxiety about the plane potentially plunging down, as she had seen in countless news stories.

When the plane stabilized at cruising altitude, Ellen let out a sigh of relief, a smile spreading across her face. However, her smile quickly faded when she heard Mason clear his throat. She looked over at him, confused, until she noticed that she was holding his hand. Her eyes widened in shock and embarrassment.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," she stammered, quickly letting go of his hand. "I was just...nervous."

Mason's expression remained impassive, but he nodded slightly. "It's fine," he said, returning to his book.

Ellen turned to look out the window, trying to distract herself from the awkwardness. Her thoughts drifted to the plot of the story. She remembered that after Mason and Ellen's wedding, Aubrey had locked herself in her room, sad and gloomy because the love of her life had married another woman.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when Mason called her name. "Ellen."

She turned to him, her expression questioning. "What?"

"The stewardess is asking what you want," Mason said, a hint of impatience in his voice. Ellen blinked and realized that she had indeed been lost in her own world, deaf to the stewardess's inquiries.

"Oh, sorry," she said quickly. She looked at the stewardess, who was waiting patiently with a polite smile. "Could I just have some water, please?"

"Of course, Mrs. Coldwell," the stewardess replied, nodding before moving away to fulfill her request.

Ellen sighed and leaned back in her seat. She needed to stay focused and composed, especially around Mason. She couldn't afford to seem scatterbrained or overwhelmed. The stewardess returned with a glass of water, and Ellen thanked her. She took a sip, feeling the cool liquid soothe her dry throat. She glanced over at Mason, who was still immersed in his book. She wondered what he was reading, but didn't dare to ask.

Instead, she turned her attention back to the window, watching the clouds drift by. She let herself daydream about the days ahead in Bali. The beaches, the sunsets, the new experiences. She hoped that despite the awkwardness and tension between her and Mason, she could find some enjoyment in this trip.

Time passed, and soon it was lunchtime. The stewardess approached them with their meals. Ellen accepted it with a polite smile and a nod. When the stewardess handed her a glass of orange juice, Ellen reached out to take it. At that exact moment, the plane hit a pocket of turbulence.

Ellen's hand wobbled, and the glass shook. Orange juice sloshed over the rim, and before she could steady herself, the liquid spilled onto Mason's lap. Mason winced as the cold juice soaked through his trousers.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Ellen gasped, panic rising in her chest. She quickly put down her glass and reached for her handbag, fumbling for some tissues. Her hands were shaking as she finally found them and began to dab at the spill on Mason's pants.

Mason's expression remained unreadable, but he grabbed her wrist, stopping her frantic movements. "I can do it by myself," he said, his voice steady and calm. Ellen hadn't realized how close their faces had gotten during the commotion. She looked up, finding herself staring directly into Mason's eyes.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Ellen's breath caught in her throat as she gazed into his deep, intense eyes. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. The proximity made her heart race, and she could almost hear it pounding in her ears.

"I—" Ellen began, but words failed her. She quickly pulled back, putting some distance between them. "I'm really sorry," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ellen sat back in her seat, crying inwardly, feeling the sting of embarrassment and frustration. She told herself to stop doing anything that might lead to more embarrassment. At this point, she could only make things worse.