I was flying when I heard a woman behind me say, “I flew to Europe with Phil last weekend.” My heart stopped. That’s my husband’s name. He was in Europe last weekend. “He still can’t leave his wife. They just bought a house.” We did. Shaking, I turned around and said, “Excuse me… what did you just say?” The woman looked up, startled, clutching her coffee cup. She was younger than me, maybe late twenties, with glossy dark hair and a nervous smile. “

Oh—sorry, did I say that too loud?” she laughed awkwardly, glancing at the friend sitting beside her. I stared. “You said you flew to Europe with Phil.” Her smile faltered. “Yeah… Phil.” She swallowed, her eyes darting. “Do you… know him?” My chest tightened. “Phil Carter. My husband.” Her face went pale. The friend beside her gasped. “Oh my god.” My pulse roared in my ears. “Answer me.

You’re talking about my husband.” The younger woman set down her cup, her hands trembling. “I—I didn’t know he was married.” Her voice cracked. “He told me he was separated.”The air seemed to thin. My vision blurred at the edges. “Separated?” I whispered. “We just moved into a new house last month. We were picking out curtains together yesterday.” She blinked, tears filling her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have—” I shook my head. My stomach turned, but I forced myself to stay steady. “How long?” She hesitated. “Almost a year.”

A year. My breath caught. I wanted to scream, to cry, to disappear. Instead, I sat back in my seat, numb, as the captain announced we’d be landing in twenty minutes. The girl wiped her eyes. “I didn’t know. I swear. I stared straight ahead, gripping the armrest so hard my knuckles went white. Because in my lap, my phone buzzed with a text from Phil: “Miss you already. Can’t wait to see you tonight.”