Boarding Pass, Butterflies & Baritone

This morning, inside the cold, slightly noisy airport lounge, magic walked up to me wearing a baritone voice.

I’ve nearly missed flights before — once in Port Harcourt, to be precise — because I underestimated how far my hotel was from the airport. Or maybe because I was forming “Port Harcourt no be Lagos, abeg.” I learnt my lesson the hard way. So this time, I became a reformed traveler: hotel very close to the airport, driver instructed to come by 6am sharp, no chances taken.

My flight was for 9:30am, and even though the ride was barely 25 minutes, I’d rather wait in the lounge than be that passenger running at top speed with wig in hand and slippers in the other. Never again.

As predicted, I arrived early. Too early.

Checked in. Cleared security. Found a seat. Sat down quietly, half-sleepy, because my body had not tasted real rest since the previous day.

Boarding was for 9am.

At 9:28, instead of hearing “Passengers for flight XYZ may now board,” I heard the one announcement that pierces the soul:

“Your flight has been delayed by one hour.”

I swallowed air. Bitterly.

An extra hour in that cold lounge was the last thing I wanted.

Fine. I thought. Let me at least open my laptop and get some work done.

But the airport Wi-Fi?

A complete disgrace to its ancestors.

While I battled with it, I suddenly heard a voice behind me.

A deep voice.
A rich, velvety, baritone voice that sounded like dark chocolate melting into warm honey.

“Same issue, I guess?”

My heart did a small somersault.

I turned.

And my God…
I was not disappointed.

He was tall — the kind of tall that makes ceilings nervous.
Dark-skinned, the deep, smooth shade that holds sunlight captive.
Shoulders broad enough to make TSA rethink their body scanners.
A jawline sharp enough to slice through my remaining self-control.
And that smile… warm, slow, confident… the type that makes you wonder what childhood prayers you prayed right.

“Hi,” he said, almost shy in contrast to his appearance. “Pardon my manners. I just… wanted to say you’re very peaceful. You exude this calm that’s calling out to me, and it made it hard not to talk to you.”

Peaceful?

Me?

I nearly laughed. But instead, I smiled — one of those shy, surprised smiles you give when the universe is clearly plotting something.

We talked.

He asked what I did.

His excitement jumped when he realized we were headed to the same city.

Just when our conversation was about to reach the “Tell me more…” stage, a boarding announcement rang out.

Not mine.
His.

He shot up immediately, then paused, waiting for me to do the same. But when he discovered we weren’t on the same airline, the disappointment hit him so visibly that I almost burst into laughter. He looked like a teenage boy whose crush just told him she had a boyfriend.

His friend noticed and stepped in, like a wingman with sense.

“You guys should exchange contacts so you can talk later.”

The idea hit him like fresh revelation.

He handed me his phone — hands slightly jittery.

“Ikos,” he said.

“Grace,” I replied, smiling.

He joined the long queue of passengers boarding, disappearing slowly into the line. I had barely settled back into my seat when my phone buzzed.

A message.

From him.

“Gracee, tell me bye bye now… or see you later?”

I read it in his voice.
That deep, silky baritone that was already walking freely around my mind like it paid rent.

I smiled wider.

Slipped my phone back into my bag.
And just then, my own flight began boarding.
As I joined the queue for boarding, my phone buzzed again.

Another message.

“I actually hope it’s ‘see you later.’ Don’t make it ‘bye.’”

For a moment, the airport didn’t feel so cold anymore.

A stranger shouldn’t make my heart race like that.

But he did.

And just like that… Ikos became a story I wasn’t sure I was ready for — but definitely curious enough to explore.