I never expected an ordinary flight to become one of the most meaningful lessons I’ve ever learned.

What started as a routine trip—colored by exhaustion, impatience, and a desire to mentally shut everything out—unexpectedly became a gentle but powerful reckoning with my own self-absorption. One quiet presence, one subtle moment, perhaps even something left unsaid, forced me to rethink how I understood empathy.

I boarded the plane drained, determined to retreat into myself and ignore the world around me. Then I noticed her: a pregnant woman seated a row behind me, composed and serene despite the tight seating and constant movement of the cabin. She didn’t complain. She didn’t ask for special treatment. And yet, simply by being there, she made me aware of how little attention I was paying to anyone but myself. Each small movement, every restrained breath, every silent discomfort reminded me that my convenience was not the most important thing in that space.