I never imagined something as simple as an airplane seat assignment could unravel my entire marriage—but here I am, sitting in an airport café, questioning everything.
It started on a flight to visit my family. I was ready to relax, book in hand, drink in mind. But my plans shifted when a woman sat beside me. She smiled, polite and familiar. Then I caught her name on her boarding pass: Clara—my husband’s ex-wife.
I recognized her immediately from old wedding photos Oscar once showed me. But what shocked me more? She knew who I was.
“You’re Oscar’s new wife, right?” she asked, smiling. “You’re all over his social media.”
We made awkward small talk until Clara casually dropped her first bomb: the house I live in—our home—was originally her dream home. Designed by her and Oscar, down to the last detail.
Then came the second blow: Oscar still sends her flowers. Tulips—her favorite. On her birthday. Their anniversary. Even on the day they finalized their divorce. Sometimes with cake.
I sat frozen, breath caught in my chest.
And then she delivered the final hit: “He still calls me. When you two fight. When he’s upset. Last week, after your argument—he called.”
Why was she telling me all this? Her answer was simple: “You seem like a nice girl. You deserved to know.”
I spent the rest of the flight numb, spiraling through memories, now tainted. When we landed, Clara whispered a soft “I’m sorry.” And for a second, I believed she meant it.
Now, staring at my untouched coffee, I texted Oscar without hesitation:
“It’s over. Talk to Clara.”
It wasn’t about the flowers.
It was about the trust.
What would you have done?
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