The trip was meant to be a fresh start — a long-haul flight across the world to reconnect. My husband upgraded to business class — but only for himself. He left me and our sleepy toddler stuck in economy.
As the flight dragged on, he reclined in comfort while I juggled a crying child, bouncing him, singing, begging for peace — and got no sleep. In business class, he ate gourmet meals, watched movies, rested. I endured hours of chaos, exhaustion and loneliness.
When we landed, we were zombie-like. He looked fresh and immaculate, smiling, while I carried our drooling toddler, exhausted, disheveled. He apologized: “I messed up.” He tried to make amends with sleep shifts and fancy dinners. But for me, the damage was done.
On that flight I realized our marriage was already over. His regret couldn’t fix it. No upgrade could.
If you like — I can make an even shorter two-paragraph version.