Moe tentatively reached for the chrome handrail, experiencing a painful hesitation. He felt disgusted and nauseous, not wanting to ascend the steps of the private jet. With a sharp turn, he pushed Einer away with his right hand and shielded Miny, who was asleep in the sling, with his left hand. His heart pounded like a trapped bird, his ears filled with the rush of blood, and Moe stumbled down the runway between the parted bodyguards, gasping for air. He didn't care; he would figure it out as he had done before. He would buy fake passports, board a ship from Batam, sail to... no, it might be safer to travel by car to Johor Baru, and in Malaysia, he could buy a fake passport to avoid the meticulous checks of Singapore, then fly to Thailand...

"Moe," Einer, keeping his distance, sensing Moe's simmering anger, walked beside him with tense steps. "Please, believe me. I will never, do you hear me? I will never betray you. You'll be safer with me than anywhere else. Moe, where are you going?"

"Get away from me, damn it, just get away!" Moe roared, forcefully shoving Einer in the chest, his hatred for him burning fiercely until it clouded his vision with red. "Every single bad thing in my life happened because of you and your family! My family would still be alive! I wouldn't have been targeted to be turned into mincemeat, nearly killing Miny inside me! You... I hate you with every fiber of my being! And don't you dare try to convince me that my hatred gives you hope. You're the worst thing that's ever happened to me, Simmons!"

"But you're the greatest thing that's ever happened to me," Einar replied softly, taken aback by the force of the outburst. "So, I'd rather die than put you at risk. Please, Moe, let me take care of you. I am so sorry for what I've done to you, I truly am."

Startled by the sudden movement and the suppressed yet intense, angry whisper, Miny stirred restlessly, letting out a cry, and Moe, suppressing the urge to cry out himself, swayed back and forth, calming him with a voice strained with anger that had not yet subsided under the weight of parental instinct.

"Hush, little one, Daddy won't do that again. Don't worry," Moe wiped his tear-stained face with his hand and adjusted the neckline of his nursing top, giving Miny access to the nipple, which swelled with a drop of milk. He stood still, gazing longingly at Miny's blond head, emitting a comforting rumble, wiping his eyes that refused to dry, feeling trapped with no option but to return. There's Daniel, there's an alternative to Einer.

"Please, let's go," Einer pleaded softly, his eyes reflecting the desperation of a beaten dog. "Moe, please."

Reluctantly, Moe turned towards the boarding stairs, his legs feeling drained from the stress-induced blood pressure drop. Exhaling sharply before taking the first step, he began to ascend, casting a grim stare at the steward, whose composure remained intact thanks to his professionalism.

In the cabin, he settled into the window seat, noticing the cradle positioned on the seat next to him, a considerate touch. Silently accepting the blanket from the steward, he realized only now that his heart was pounding nervously. Wrapping himself up, he left only Miny's head exposed for fresh air and hopelessly stared out the window, awaiting the plane's takeoff.

The bodyguards assumed their positions, while the stewards checked final details and sealed the airtight door. Moe flinched as the plane roared to life, beginning its smooth taxi across the airfield. Einer, seated at an angle, tapped nervously with his foot, avoiding eye contact to prevent provoking another outburst from Moe. He murmured something softly to the steward nearby, who nodded with a friendly smile. Gliding gracefully down the aisle, the steward disappeared behind a curtain and returned with drinks, placing them one by one on the table in front of Moe.

"May I offer you a drink, sir?" the steward politely asked.

Pointing to the table, he continued without waiting for a response, listing the available items, "Chamomile tea, lavender tea, lemonade, sparkling mineral water, still mineral water, whiskey," Moe mumbled, gradually coming to his senses and breathing more steadily. He enjoyed the human reaction that finally broke through the smooth facade - a momentary daze, and he chuckled. "Do you happen to have any Pu’erh?"

"Certainly," the steward replied with a light exhale, smiling deferentially and appreciating the joke. "Would you prefer green Pu’erh or black Pu’erh?"

"Black, but with milk and ginger," Moe requested, attuned to the needs of his exhausted body, drained from the strain of nervous tension, as Miny suckled vigorously.

"And something to eat. A sandwich or a canapé, something I can hold in my hand."

"Very well, sir," the steward took the tray and swiftly disappeared behind the curtain.

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Moe shifted Miny, who had drained every last drop from his left nipple and was now fussing, to his right side. He gently stroked the tender cheek, which had reddened from being pressed against his chest, with a trembling finger. Inhaling the sweet, milky cinnamon scent with a hint of vitality, he whispered tenderly.

"My little darling, you've already made quite a mess in your diaper. But I'm sorry, you'll have to wait. We'll wait until we’ll climb to a higher altitude, then I'll change your diaper," he searched for his bag, and Einar unbuckled his seatbelt and sprang up, pulling the bag out from under the seat and putting it carefully in front of Moe.

"There's a bedroom here if you want to rest," Einar, sensing the tension had eased, spoke softly, meeting his gaze. Moe responded with reluctant silence, immediately turning away to the window - he didn't feel like engaging with the asshole.

Twenty minutes later, Miny, unable to tolerate the discomfort of a warm, wet diaper, furrowed his dark eyebrows together in anger, letting out pitiful cries and demands simultaneously. This tormented Moe, who struggled to sit up, and it seemed to affect Einar as well. He sat crumpled in his chair, gazing at the tiny blond head emitting plaintive cries, clearly eager to help but holding back. Finally, the belt sign flashed, prompting Moe to unbuckle the seatbelt and stand up to remove Miny from the sling.

"There's a bathroom in the bedroom," Einar also stood up, but kept his distance cautiously. "I'll show you and carry the bag myself."

"Stay put, one of your Teletubbies can help," Moe snapped angrily, and Einar reluctantly summoned one of the bodyguards, who stood about 6’7”.

The bodyguard obediently retrieved his bag, gestured politely to the opposite end of the aisle from where the steward was concealed behind a curtain, and accompanied Moe, who led the way. Moe glanced sternly at the bodyguards, who averted their gaze - their previous insolence towards him had vanished, now treating Moe with the deference usually reserved for royalty.

He opened the bathroom door and placed his bag on the floor, kneeling down to assist.

Moe, initially surprised, was starting to see the usefulness of the situation. Now that he didn’t have a helper, these pit bulls might finally prove to be useful.

"In the bag, there’s a pack of diapers, disposable changing pads, and a towel," Moe instructed as he placed Miny on the bed. Impatiently, he watched as the bodyguard cautiously searched through the contents, handing him the requested items one by one. Moe slid a diaper beneath the quiet Miny, removed his pants and old diaper, bundled it up, and carried him to be cleaned.

He carefully bathed him, gently patting his delicate skin dry with a towel, and then smiled at Miny, who gazed off into space behind him, contentedly smacking his lips. With just two steps, he returned to the bedroom, gently laying Miny back onto the changing pad and putting on a fresh diaper. Seating himself beside Miny, he glanced at the bed - it looked inviting after hours of anxiety and frantic packing.

"Thank you. Please inform the steward that I'll have my meal here," Moe said as he pulled the bag with his foot, extracting the pants and diaper from its depths. He put the pants on, planting a kiss on one tiny pink heel, and then, drawing Miny close, he settled against the headboard.

Einar arrived quicker than the steward, his expression still disappointed and subdued - evidently, he had hoped for long hours of being together and perhaps a conversation, but Moe harshly dashed those hopes. Silently, he placed the cradle on the bed, casting a wary glance at Moe, and carefully chose his words, "I was told at the clinic that you prefer to co-sleep. I instructed to buy bed railings. If it's alright with you, I'll set them up."

Moe wanted to decline, really, really wanted to—oh, desperately—but exhaustion washed over him heavily, rendering him immobile. With a nod, he shifted to the side of the bed against the wall, cradling Miny in his arms as the baby kicked his legs in the air. Einar awkwardly fidgeted, attempting to set up the railings, while the steward who had brought the food busied himself setting the table, the utensils clinking and clattering softly.

The steward, oblivious to Einar's desire to help, interjected cheerfully, prompting a mischievous smile from Moe, "Allow me to assist you, sir. I believe you're using the wrong side."

“Damn,” said Einar, realizing his helplessness, begrudgingly stepped aside at the bedside, yielding to the steward's assistance. Desperately seeking a reason to linger, he asked, "Moe, would you like to freshen up? I can hold Miny while you take a shower."

Moe turned slightly, casting a coldly arrogant glance at him, and hissed, "You're not getting anywhere near my son. Steward, you're trained to assist parents with young children, correct?"

"Yes, sir," the steward replied, his complexion paling as he glanced nervously at Einer, whose expression was as dark as night. "But I..."

"You can assist me if I need to freshen up. As for you, you can go," Moe swallowed the word "shit" - he shouldn't swear in front of a waking Miny, or so his subconscious reminded him. "Einer, I'd prefer to see you only upon arrival. I'll ask the steward for anything I need."

"Okay," Einer responded, casting one more longing glance at his feet before leaving the bedroom. Moe relaxed, picking Miny up in his arms and making his way over to the table.

The astute steward not only brought miniature sandwiches but also a tantalizing roast of meat, a pot of roasted vegetables in cream, spinach salad, diced cucumbers, and white radishes, and for dessert, a cherry pudding accompanied by a teapot of Pu-erh, which lifted Moe's spirits. Placing Miny in his cradle beside him, he indulged in the meal, emitting contented moans of pleasure.

He ate until he reached the point of being "hard to breathe, but happy at heart," his eyes drooping with drowsiness. Stripping down to his underwear, he nestled beside the awake Miny, propping him against the railing and covering them both with a blanket, struggling to keep his eyes open before finally succumbing to sleep, unaware of his drifting into slumber.