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The red-eye flight was nearly silent, the kind of quiet that only exists when exhaustion wins. Overhead lights were dimmed, conversations reduced to whispers, and the steady hum of the engines felt like a lullaby for everyone on board. For Rachel Martinez, that hum was the last thing holding her upright.
She had not slept properly in weeks. Two double shifts back to back in a pediatric ward. A babysitter who quit without notice. A scramble to arrange last-minute childcare that fell apart anyway. A cross-country flight booked out of desperation, not planning. Her body ached in places she didn’t remember hurting before, and her mind felt like it was constantly bracing for impact.
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