I was a flight attendant. My husband was a titan of industry—successful, brilliant, and completely indifferent to me. Every month, he would book a seat on my specific route. Every time, he was accompanied by a different, glamorous woman. I watched from the galley, my heart splintering into a thousand pieces, but I bore it all in silence. The last time it happened, just as the wheels were about to touch the tarmac, I leaned over. I bent down close to his ear and whispered. "Liam, I’m agreeing to the divorce. I’m off tomorrow. Let’s go to the lawyer and sign the papers." 1 The plane glided steadily through the clouds at thirty thousand feet. I was in the galley checking the meal counts when Sarah, the purser, walked back. I straightened my uniform. "Yes, Sarah?" She glanced at the checklist in my hand. "You have the seniority to move up to First Class service. Why haven't you applied for the promotion?" "I don't think I’m ready yet," I said softly. "I still have a lot to learn." "Humility is a virtue, Maya, but too much of it is self-sabotage. Heat the meals." Sarah handed me the list and headed back to the front. My gaze drifted toward the passenger in Seat 1A. No one on this crew knew that the most prestigious Black Card holder in First Class was my husband, Liam Sterling. And next to him sat a stunning woman in a designer suit. That was why I stayed in the back. I couldn't bring myself to kneel beside my own husband and his date, offering a perfect, practiced smile while serving them champagne. Even though we’d been married for a year, we had never actually been husband and wife. Not in any way that mattered. 2 I was a gift from Liam’s grandfather. My grandfather and his had been brothers-in-arms decades ago. On our wedding night, Liam had unbuttoned half his shirt before stopping. He walked out to the balcony to smoke. Halfway through his cigarette, he turned around. "I have plenty of houses," he said coldly. "I won't be coming back here every night. You do whatever it is you do." He was a man of his word. He showed up at our penthouse maybe once a month. Later, when the tabloids started picking up rumors of him with various models and socialites, I hadn't even had the chance to call and ask him about it before his office rang me. "If you want a divorce," he said over the phone, "I’ll sign whenever you're ready." The words hit like a physical weight, leaving me breathless. That day, I only nodded. "I understand." A few weeks later, he came home. "Still haven't filed?" In that moment, I realized how desperately he wanted out. I went to bed early that night, refusing to engage. No one knew that my pillow was damp with tears. No one knew that I had been in love with him for seven years. We had met once, long before the marriage. But he had forgotten me entirely. 3 "Good afternoon, here is your grilled chicken. Please enjoy." After finishing the meal service, I pushed the cart through the Business Class cabin. Liam was working on his laptop. The woman beside him was draped in a vibrant silk scarf, staring out the window at the ocean of clouds. Sarah went over and knelt beside him. "Sir, would you like to change into slippers? I can help you with your shoes." "I can do it myself," Liam replied, his tone polite but distant. "Ma'am, let me help you with your shoes." The woman turned back. "Thank you." For a split second, Liam looked up. Our eyes collided. I looked away instantly, pulling the cart faster as I retreated down the aisle. Two hours later, we touched down at LAX. "Thank you for flying with us. Goodbye." After the passengers deplaned, I saw the woman hook her arm through his. The California wind caught her hair, making it wave like seaweed. 4 "Still staring? Everyone's already on the shuttle." I turned around to see my coworkers grabbing their bags. "Sorry, Sarah." "You like him, don't you?" I shook my head immediately. "No." She patted my shoulder and smiled. "Don't skip the next promotion cycle." 5 Liam actually came home that night. I hadn't expected him. I was sitting on the sofa with my hair half-dry, mindlessly watching TV. He was tall and imposing; the room always felt smaller when he walked in. I wanted to ask him about the flight, but the image of him with that woman flashed through my mind, and the words died in my throat. He sat on the other sofa, taking a work call. I could smell the faint scent of whiskey on him. I grabbed a bag of chips and started eating them, one by one, staring at the screen. "Early meeting tomorrow at nine." He hung up and looked at me. I looked back. "Nothing to ask?" I shook my head. I set the chips down and went to the bathroom. In the mirror, my face looked pale and still. When I came out, he was on the balcony. A few seconds later, the glow from his phone vanished. He turned around, a lingering smile on his lips that vanished the moment he saw me. I stood there in silence. His happiness, it seemed, had nothing to do with me. 6 He slept in the guest room. I woke up early to head to the airport. He was up, too. In the elevator, we stood on opposite sides. When we hit the lobby, I stepped out. He kept going down to the garage. The weather was horrific that day. Mid-flight, we hit extreme turbulence. The plane dropped several times, and for a moment, the cabin was filled with the sound of screaming. After we landed safely, the crew huddled together, some of us crying from the adrenaline. The flight made national news. Standing in the terminal, watching the crowds, I checked my phone. Not a single call. Not a single text. My terror, it seemed, had nothing to do with him either. 7 I saw him again a month later. It was a cross-country flight from New York to San Francisco. The weather was perfect that day. Bright sunlight, smooth air. He was with the same woman again. She had very pale skin. Midway through the flight, she drifted off to sleep, her head resting on his shoulder. It happened to be a holiday. International Women’s Day. The airline had prepared roses for the passengers. "Ladies and gentlemen, in honor of Women’s Day, the airline has a rose for every female passenger on board. We wish you a journey of courage and grace." "Happy holiday!" "Thank you, that’s so sweet." "I didn't get any flowers today, I can't believe I got one on a plane!" "Happy holiday to you too, dear." After I finished handing out the flowers, I looked toward First Class. Sarah was handing a rose to the woman sitting next to Liam. "Happy holiday. Would you like me to set this on your tray table?" "That would be lovely." 8 I went back to the galley, washed the trays, and sat down at my jumpseat. I stared out the window at the clouds. I felt a strange sense of peace, even through the ache. The clouds began to part. I flexed my cold fingers. I looked up. Some people simply aren't meant for you. Let go. Let him walk away. "Ladies and gentlemen, we will be landing at SFO in approximately thirty minutes... we hope to see you on your next journey." As the plane began its descent, I stood up. I walked to his seat. I leaned in and spoke softly. "Liam, I’m agreeing to the divorce. I’m off tomorrow. Let’s go get it done." 9 After my shift, I dragged a large suitcase into the penthouse. I pressed my thumb to the scanner and the door clicked open. To my surprise, he was already home. Was it because of the divorce? Did the thought of being free finally make him want to come back to this "stifling" house? I wheeled my suitcase inside. I started a pot of rice in the kitchen and then went to the bedroom to pack. He stood in the doorway for a long time. "Don't pack," he said. "The house is yours." I froze. Then I turned around and shook my head. "You bought this place before we were married. I didn't put a cent into it. I don't want it." I went back to packing. He stood there a moment longer, then walked away. I was glad he left. I folded my clothes, packed my toiletries, and cleared my shelves. It felt like I had been a long-term guest here. Now, the reservation was over. I didn't feel like the lady of the house. I felt small, pathetic, and useless. 10 I hadn't expected him to stay for dinner. I hadn't gone grocery shopping. There was no point in cooking elaborate meals to try and "win his heart" anymore. Once the rice was done, I went to the deli downstairs and bought a few pre-made salads and cold cuts. "Dinner's ready." He set his book down by the window and came to the table. He looked surprised by the spread. "I didn't think you’d be here, and I assumed we were just meeting at the lawyer's office tomorrow. I didn't shop. This will have to do," I said, taking a bite of plain rice. Liam, who was usually incredibly picky, actually sat down. We ate in total silence. "Where did you get the salads?" he asked midway through. "They’re actually not bad." He finished his bowl. 11 After dinner, I washed the dishes and scrubbed the kitchen one last time. He sat on the balcony, his hands resting on the arms of the chair. He seemed lost in thought. I didn't know him at all. He was a CEO; I was just a flight attendant. Our worlds had no natural overlap. But seven years ago, he had been a flash of light in my life, and I’d never been able to get him out of my heart. The universe had been kind enough—or cruel enough—to put us together despite the gap in our status. But we were strangers, and we had squandered that mercy. He deserved someone better. If people were pearls, I was the one that had lost its luster standing next to him. After finishing the bedroom, I showered and packed my final bathroom essentials. He took several calls on the balcony. Occasionally, I felt his gaze on me. 12 I taped up the boxes of my things in the living room. Everything else was staying. I sat on the sofa for a moment to catch my breath. He walked in. He had long legs and a presence that commanded the room even when he was just walking. "I’m sorry about the last two years," he said. "Take this card." He slid a Black Card across the table. "The PIN is your birthday." I looked at him. He actually knew my birthday? He probably had to look it up to set the code. "I don't need it. My salary is enough to support myself. Keep the card." He sat on the sofa. I didn't take the card, and he didn't take it back. "Can I ask you something?" I asked. "Anything." "Will you get married again? Will you have a big wedding?" On our wedding day, we’d just signed the papers and had a quiet dinner with the family. It was as simple as a business transaction. If he married again, I assumed it would be for the woman he actually loved. He’d give her the grand ceremony, the witnesses, the joy. "Don't overthink it. Get some sleep." He agreed to let me ask, but he didn't answer. He got up and went to the bedroom. I sat there for a while, then went to the guest room to sleep.
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