The plane fell fr.e.ely, everyone thought they were going to d.i.e. In the last moments, the miracle came…

I’m not a flyer. Actually, I was very afraid of heights. But that morning, I took a flight from Davao City to Manila to catch up with a job interview that I had been preparing for three months.

Everything was normal, like hundreds of other flights. The budget airline’s Airbus A321 took off at 7:05 a.m. I sat in row 22F, next to the window. On my right was a middle-aged man in his 50s, clutching a leather briefcase. On my left, a young woman in a white jacket was dozing off.

I don’t remember exactly when it all started—only that the flight had been smooth until the sudden jolt. A loud “BOOM” came from somewhere behind, and the entire plane tilted sharply.

Screams erupted across the cabin.

Warning lights came on. Oxygen masks dropped. A flight attendant shouted through the intercom: “Everyone stay seated and put on your oxygen masks immediately!”

The man beside me grabbed his mask, but his hands were trembling so badly he dropped it three times before securing it. I hadn’t even managed to strap mine on when the plane began to fall—not a regular descent, but a straight drop, like those in extreme amusement rides.

In that moment, all sounds seemed to vanish. My stomach felt hollow, my ears rang. Some passengers were crying, others were frozen in silence, as if they’d already accepted their fate. I saw an elderly woman clutching a small statue of the Santo Niño, her lips moving in prayer. A young boy above me screamed for his mother, and she could only hold him tightly, unable to speak.

And in that moment, I thought: “This is it. I’m going to die.”

But strangely, amid the panic, my mind drifted to the most ordinary memories. I remembered the dinner I had with my mother last week, when she scolded me for eating too fast. I remembered my cat, who always curled up by my feet at night. I remembered my ex-girlfriend—we broke up because of distance, and I never got to say sorry.

30 seconds of free fall. But they were the longest 30 seconds of my life. Each second stretched out like a year.

And then—the plane steadied. No more violent shaking. Just the sound of wind… and passengers gasping for breath.

A voice from the cockpit broke the silence: “We have just experienced a pressure loss and Engine No. 2 failure. The situation is under control. We will make an emergency landing at Ninoy Aquino International Airport. Please remain calm.”

No one spoke. Many cried. The man beside me took off his mask and murmured, “Thank God.” The woman next to me leaned forward, eyes still shut, but tears rolled silently down her face.

20 minutes later, we landed. The wheels hit the runway with a thud that sounded like salvation. When the doors opened, everyone moved. People hugged, called loved ones, walked quietly like survivors stepping out of a nightmare.