Eight Years Of Waiting For His Flight Schedule Ended With A One-Way Ticket Chapter 03

Eight Years Of Waiting For His Flight Schedule Ended With A One-Way Ticket Chapter 03

The next two days, I kept cleaning myself out of that apartment.

The monstera plant in the living room was mine. I gave it to the neighbor.

The rocking chair on the balcony—I’d picked that out. I called a secondhand pickup service to take it.

Nathan didn’t even notice what was missing.

He was just relieved I’d been quiet.

“This is more like it,” he said Friday morning, eating frozen burritos I’d microwaved.

“It’s Amber’s birthday tonight. A few of us from the crew are getting dinner. You’re coming with me.”

I stopped wiping the counter.

“What would I do there?”

“You’re always complaining I never bring you around my coworkers. Everyone’s going tonight. You can meet them.”

He said it like he was doing me a favor.

I used to beg him to let me into his world.

He’d say, “They’re all pilots. You won’t understand what we’re talking about. You’d be bored.”

Now he wanted me there. Because it was Amber Reid’s birthday.

“Fine,” I said.

I wanted to see for myself where she stood in his coworkers’ eyes.

…

Eight p.m. We got to the sushi restaurant.

The private room door slid open. Six or seven people were already inside.

Amber Reid sat at the head of the table in a white lace dress. Around her neck was a necklace I recognized.

The one from the gift box I’d seen on the coffee table two days ago.

“Nathan! You brought your wife!” Amber stood up, all smiles, walking toward me.

“Hi, Mrs. Hayes! Nathan’s told me so much about you. So great to finally meet you.”

She reached for my hand warmly.

I pulled back.

“Happy birthday,” I said flatly.

Awkward silence hung in the room for a second.

Nathan pulled me down into a seat and muttered under his breath, “Don’t embarrass me tonight.”

Everyone talked shop. Which routes had bad turbulence, which tower controllers had a short fuse.

I didn’t understand any of it. Didn’t care to.

“You know, Nathan’s landings are the smoothest,” a first officer said, raising his glass.

“Amber knows best. Every time Nathan’s flying, Amber doesn’t even spill her coffee in the back.”

Amber covered her mouth and laughed.

“Seriously. Everyone at the airline knows how good Nathan is. Remember that storm flying into Tokyo? My legs turned to jelly. Then Nathan messaged me from the cockpit—‘I’m here, don’t be scared’—and I felt safe immediately.”

The whole table started teasing.

“Ooooh—‘I’m here, don’t be scared!’”

Nathan laughed along. Didn’t correct her. There was even something soft in his eyes.

I took a sip of my tea. It was cold. Bitter.

That storm. I remembered that Tokyo flight.

Delayed five hours because of weather. I couldn’t sleep, I was so worried. I called him a dozen times. He didn’t pick up.

Later he texted: [Busy at work. Don’t make a fuss.]

Turns out he was busy comforting Amber Reid in the cabin.

“Mrs. Hayes, don’t you ever look after Nathan?” Amber turned the conversation to me.

“His stomach’s so messed up. Yesterday he showed up to sim without even eating breakfast. We were all so worried about him.”

Her tone carried a barely concealed accusation.

The table went quiet. Everyone looked at me.

“He’s an adult. He knows how to order takeout.” I put down my teacup.

Amber blinked. Her eyes reddened instantly.

“Mrs. Hayes, I didn’t mean anything bad by it. I just care about Nathan…”

“Clara. Enough.” Nathan slammed his chopsticks down. His face was dark.

“We’re here to have a good time. Why do you have to make everyone uncomfortable?”

“What did I say that was so uncomfortable?” I looked at him calmly.

“Amber was just being nice, reminding you to take care of me, and you give her that attitude?”

“Captain Hayes.” I stood up and grabbed my bag. 　　“Since someone else is so worried about your stomach, I guess I don’t need to be anymore.”

“Clara! You walk out that door and see what happens!”

He yelled after me.

I slid the door open. Didn’t pause.

The cold air from the hallway hit my face. I took a deep breath.

Eight years. I was done putting myself on the floor just to protect his ego.

I went home and packed the rest of my books into a box.

Just had to make it to Wednesday.