Fate has a cruel sense of humor. On a routine flight home, I ended up beside the one person who could destroy my marriage—my husband’s ex.
I was tired, just wanting to unwind, when Clara sat next to me. Her name on the boarding pass sent chills down my spine. I’d seen her in Oscar’s old photos.
She recognized me immediately. “Grace, right? Oscar’s wife?” I nodded, stunned.
“He never posted me like he does you,” she said, almost amused.
We made awkward small talk until she shattered my world. “That house you live in? It was ours. I designed it.”
My stomach twisted. Every room, every color—hers.
Then came the real knife. “He still sends me flowers. Every year. Without fail.”
I wanted to scream. He forgot our dates but remembered hers?
The final betrayal? “He calls me when you fight,” she said softly.
I spent the rest of the flight numb. At the gate, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Sitting alone, I texted Oscar: It’s over. Clara told me everything.
Some flights take you farther than you planned.
