Ryan reached for it.
“Don’t listen to her. She’s upset.”
She pulled it away.
“No, Ryan. This doesn’t sound emotional.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“It sounds prepared.”
I continued serving passengers as though nothing unusual had happened.
Smiling.
Refilling drinks.
Offering blankets.
Answering questions.
Nobody in first class realized a bomb had just exploded in seat 2B.
And the flight had only begun.
PART 3 (FINAL)
The rest of the flight felt endless.
Neither Ryan nor Ashley touched much of the three-course meal served in first class.
The grilled salmon sat untouched on Ryan’s plate.
Ashley tore pieces from a dinner roll but never ate them.
Every time I walked past their row, I could feel Ryan watching me.
Waiting.
Wondering.
Trying to figure out what I knew.
The answer was simple.
Everything.
For months, I’d been putting together a puzzle he didn’t even realize existed.
One lie at a time.
One receipt at a time.
One deleted message at a time.
And now the picture was complete.
A passenger seated behind them smiled as I refilled his coffee.
“You’ve got the best service I’ve seen in years.”
“Thank you, sir,” I replied.
Ryan lowered his eyes.
Because that had always been the irony of our marriage.
I had spent years treating everyone with kindness.
Everyone except myself.
