Eight Years Of Waiting For His Flight Schedule Ended With A One-Way Ticket Chapter 02

Eight Years Of Waiting For His Flight Schedule Ended With A One-Way Ticket Chapter 02

That afternoon I went to the property management office.

I deleted my fingerprint from the building’s smart lock system.

Carol, the property manager, watched me with a confused look. “Mrs. Hayes, why would you do that? Won’t that be a pain every time you come and go?”

“I won’t need it anymore.” I smiled.

Back home, I dragged two big cardboard boxes out of the storage closet and started packing.

The apartment was huge—a two-thousand-square-foot lakeview penthouse. Nathan paid cash.

He said it was to thank me for staying with him through the hard years.

I thought it was our home.

Turns out I barely owned any of it.

In the walk-in closet, my clothes took up two sections. The rest was his stuff—uniforms, suits, coats, workout gear for every season.

I folded my everyday clothes into a suitcase.

The expensive evening gowns he’d bought me—things I’d never wear—I left hanging right where they were.

On the nightstand was a little model airplane from some airline.

A souvenir from his first international trip.

I picked it up. Underneath was a photo.

A picture of us from four years ago.

He’d just made captain back then. Cocky and brilliant.

I slid the photo out and dropped it in the trash.

Put the plane back.

Late afternoon. My phone buzzed.

A text from Nathan. [　　Landed. Just got to the hotel.]

Normally I’d text right back. Ask if he was tired, if the hotel bed was comfortable.

Today I sent one word. [　　K.]

Half an hour later, he wrote again. 　　[It’s freezing in Germany. You want any duty-free stuff?]

I was clearing my skincare bottles off the bathroom counter into my makeup bag.

[No.]

[You’re always going on about that serum. What’s it called?]

I looked at myself in the mirror.

[No. Don’t want it anymore.]

He didn’t reply.

Maybe he thought I was being impossible. Or maybe he was busy taking care of someone else.

I opened Amber Reid’s Instagram.

Her most recent post was from ten minutes ago.

A night shot of the river in Frankfurt. 　　Next to it, a mug of mulled wine. A man’s hand rested on the rim. 　　On the middle finger of that hand was a faint scar.

Nathan had cut himself cutting fruit. I’d changed his bandages for a week.

Amber’s caption: [　　Freezing in Frankfurt, but the mulled wine helps. Some trips just hit different when someone’s got your back.]

A few of their coworkers had liked it.

One comment: [Captain Hayes is buying, right? You’re so lucky, Amber.]

Amber replied with a blushing emoji.

I closed Instagram calmly.

The sharp ache in my chest had gone numb.

Eight years. I’d been blind, living on promises he never intended to keep.

He wasn’t careless. He wasn’t incapable of romance.

He just poured all his care and romance into someone else.

…

A few days later, Nathan’s flight landed.

Seven p.m. He pushed open the door.

He was carrying a fancy gift box.

I sat on the couch watching him take off his shoes.

“No dinner?” He looked at the empty table.

“I already ate.”

His frown deepened. 　　“I flew thirteen hours and I can’t even get a hot meal when I get home?”

“Order takeout.”

He slammed the gift box down on the coffee table.

“Clara, what the hell is your problem these past two days?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“No problem? You won’t even text me back. I asked what you wanted and you said nothing.”

I looked at the box.

“Is that for me?”

He paused. His eyes flickered.

“It’s, uh… someone asked me to bring it back. I’ll get yours tomorrow. I’ll go to the mall.”

Someone.

“Amber Reid asked you to bring it?” I held his gaze.

His face darkened.

“You went through my phone?”

“Her Instagram is public.”

He relaxed a little, his voice turning defensive again.

“She did me a favor. So I brought her a gift. What’s the big deal? You’re really going to be this petty?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“That frozen look on your face is saying plenty.” He yanked at his tie, annoyed. “She’s a coworker. I see her every day at work. So I look out for her. So what?”

“You look out for her really well.” I stood up. Didn’t want to argue.

“Clara!”

He yelled after me.

“I’m exhausted. Can you just be reasonable for once? I don’t need to come home to your attitude.”

Reasonable.

I’d been reasonable for eight years.

So I swallowed my tears and walked into the guest room without looking back.

“I’m sleeping in here tonight. Get some rest.”