Chapter 3 — An Unplanned Arrival
Claire Bennett
The warm, dry air of Marrakesh hit Claire the moment she stepped out of the plane and onto the bustling tarmac. It smelled of sun-baked earth and kerosene, with an intriguing undercurrent of spice and dust that whispered of the vibrant city waiting beyond. She paused for a second, adjusting the leather backpack slung over her shoulder, her fingers brushing against the strap. A diversion like this was nothing out of the ordinary for a frequent traveler, but this time, it felt oddly symbolic—like the universe was nudging her toward something.
Not that Jason, Mr. Perpetual Storm Cloud, would see it that way.
She glanced over her shoulder to find him standing stiffly, bracing himself as if turbulence might hit him on the ground, too. His white-knuckled grip on his carry-on and his clenched jaw betrayed the discomfort he tried to mask with his usual air of control. Claire smirked to herself. Marrakesh was going to knock that control right out of him if he didn’t loosen up.
They fell into step as they entered the bustling Marrakesh Menara Airport terminal, where the din of overlapping voices surrounded them—Arabic, French, English, and more swirling together in a lively symphony. The energy here was different from the sterile airports of Europe, and Claire’s hazel eyes darted around, soaking in every detail: women in vibrant kaftans moving with purpose, travelers with precariously stacked suitcases, and a pair of security guards gesturing animatedly as they shared a joke.
Jason, meanwhile, had already pulled out his phone, his fingers tapping furiously as he scrolled through menus, likely attempting to salvage some semblance of control. Claire tilted her head, curiosity creeping in despite herself as she watched him battle the inevitable.
“They’re probably just going to tell you what they told everyone else,” she said, her tone light and teasing. “Flights are overbooked. Next one’s in a few days. Guess the universe is sending us a message.”
Jason didn’t even look up. “If the universe has something to say, it can send an email. This is unacceptable.”
Claire grinned, leaning closer. “Maybe it’s telling you to stop fighting it and... I don’t know, embrace a little chaos. Like jazz.”
That earned her a sideways glance, his piercing blue eyes narrowing slightly. “Claire, if the universe is jazz, then I’m tone-deaf.”
She let out a laugh that earned a couple of curious glances from other passengers. Before she could reply, they reached the growing line at the airline desk, where a young attendant in a bright scarf was valiantly trying to appease a steadily growing crowd. Claire could see the cracks in her polite smile as she answered question after question.
When it was finally their turn, Claire stepped forward, flashing a disarming smile. “Hi! We’re trying to figure out what’s next. Any chance you’ve got magic carpets available? Or a hotel voucher will do.”
The attendant blinked, clearly unsure whether to laugh, but Jason stepped in before she could respond. His tone was firm, all business. “When is the next available flight to Paris or London, or anywhere we can connect through?”
The attendant’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “I’m very sorry, sir, but with the backlog of flights, the soonest availability isn’t until 72 hours from now. In the meantime, we can provide hotel accommodations and meal vouchers.”
Jason’s lips pressed into a thin, unhappy line. Claire, sensing an outburst brewing, nudged him aside gently. “That’s really helpful, thank you. Oh, and would you happen to know of any riads nearby? I hear they’re amazing.”
The attendant’s polite smile brightened into something genuine. “Yes, there’s a lovely one in the Medina. Not too far, and much quieter than the larger hotels. Let me write down the name for you.”
As the attendant scribbled on a slip of paper, Claire’s gaze wandered past the desk. Her eyes caught on two men in sharp suits standing near the edge of the terminal. They were speaking quietly, their expressions inscrutable, but something about the way they lingered—neither moving nor engaging like the people around them—made Claire pause.
They weren’t looking at her. They were looking past her. At Jason.
“Here you go, miss,” the attendant chirped, handing over the slip of paper.
Claire’s fingers tightened around the note as she glanced back at the suited men. Their presence sent a faint ripple of unease through her chest, but she pushed it aside for now. She turned back to Jason, who was already dialing a number on his phone.
“Hey,” she said, lowering her voice. “Don’t look now, but I think you’ve got some admirers.”
Jason frowned, glancing at her with barely veiled annoyance. “What are you talking about?”
“Behind you. Two suits. They’ve been staring since we got off the plane.”
Jason’s gaze flicked subtly over his shoulder. His expression hardened, the muscle in his jaw tightening as he turned back. “They’re probably airline staff.”
Claire raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Because airline staff always look like they’re heading to a board meeting at a Fortune 500 company.”
Jason didn’t respond, but she saw the faintest flicker of worry cross his face before he masked it. He adjusted the strap of his bag with deliberate casualness.
“Let’s go,” he said abruptly, striding toward the exit. “I need to figure out a plan.”
Claire followed, her pace deliberately leisurely compared to his brisk march. “Correction: we need to figure out a plan. Unless you’re planning on ditching me here?”
Jason didn’t answer, which she took as tacit agreement.
The taxi rank outside the terminal was chaos incarnate. Drivers shouted over one another, horns blared, and travelers argued over fares. Claire stepped forward confidently, effortlessly haggling with a cheerful, middle-aged driver who finally waved them into his cab with a grin.
Jason climbed in reluctantly, his long legs awkwardly folding into the cramped back seat. He spent the ride staring out the window, his phone forgotten for once. Claire watched him out of the corner of her eye, curious to see how he was processing the kaleidoscope of life outside. The streets were alive: donkey carts jostled for space with motorbikes, vendors called out in singsong voices, and flashes of lush greenery peeked through high, sunlit walls.
“This isn’t what I signed up for,” Jason muttered, half under his breath.
Claire smirked. “Welcome to chaos. You might even like it if you let yourself.”
Jason didn’t reply, but she noticed his grip on his bag loosen slightly.
The taxi wound its way through the Medina’s labyrinthine streets, finally stopping in front of a narrow alleyway. The driver gestured to a heavy wooden door set into an ochre wall, its frame lined with intricate carvings. Claire jumped out, excitement bubbling as she approached.
The door swung open, revealing a woman in her late twenties with a radiant smile. A patterned scarf framed her dark, curly hair, and her warm brown eyes sparkled with welcome.
“Welcome to my riad,” she said, her voice carrying a slight French inflection. “I’m Zahra. Please, come in.”
Claire stepped inside, her breath catching as the tranquil courtyard unfolded before her. The bubbling fountain at the center reflected dappled sunlight, the scent of rosewater and orange blossoms heavy in the air. Jason lingered in the doorway, his hesitation palpable.
“It’s beautiful,” Claire said, turning to Zahra with genuine admiration.
“Thank you,” Zahra replied, her smile widening. Her gaze shifted to Jason. “You must both be tired after your journey.”
“Long day,” Jason muttered, his tone clipped.
Claire shot him a look. “What he means is, thank you for having us. This place is incredible.”
Jason sighed, brushing a hand across his forehead. “Right. Thank you.”
Zahra didn’t seem fazed. “Let me show you to your rooms. And later, if you’d like, I can prepare some tea. It’s the perfect way to unwind after a chaotic day.”
Claire smiled. “Tea sounds perfect.”
As they followed Zahra deeper into the riad, Jason’s gaze flitted over the intricate mosaic tiles and lush greenery. His tension hadn’t disappeared, but Claire caught a flicker of reluctant admiration in his expression.
Two days? Three?
She smirked to herself. Marrakesh would work its magic soon enough.
