Chapter 1
After I threatened to call off the engagement, my fiancé, Michael Reed, finally agreed to take me on one of his transoceanic flights.
"Be at the VIP lounge at 5:30 tomorrow morning. If you're late, don't blame me for leaving without you," he said.
Afraid of being late, I went to his apartment building at 3 a.m., hoping to give him the breakfast I had made myself.
But I saw Sophie Lane walk out, wearing his white shirt.
"Mike, what if Emily really shows up at the airport?" Sophie asked.
Michael chuckled softly. "Don't worry. I hid her boarding documents. She won't get past security."
I reached into the empty pocket of my bag, my fingers suddenly cold.
Michael gently wrapped Sophie's scarf around her neck. "I promised to fly with you for these seven days before the wedding. I won't miss a single day."
At 5:30 a.m., I stood outside the terminal, watching his flight taxi toward the runway.
Michael didn't spare the terminal a single look.
I tore up my boarding pass and threw it in the trash, then turned and walked away.
I would not get on a plane that never waited for me.
*****
As I left the airport, the breakfast bag was still warm.
The oatmeal was prepared at 2 a.m., and the raviolis were Michael's favorite.
Three years ago, the first time he brought me to watch the planes, we stood outside the control tower. He took a bite of the ravioli I made and smiled warmly.
"I'll bring you along for every important flight from now on," he promised.
Back then, his uniform was perfectly pressed, and his epaulets sparkled in the sunlight.
Later, when he became a captain, he brought his parents, his colleagues, and Sophie aboard, but not me.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
A message from Michael popped up.
Michael: [You really showed up without your boarding documents? Are you done with the drama yet?]
Another message came through right after.
Michael: [Just go home and wait for me. We'll do the dress fitting in seven days. And stop with the breakup threats already.]
The words on the screen were as cold as needles.
My phone lit up with a call from an unknown number.
When I answered, Sophie's voice was hoarse, as if she'd woken up. "Emily, Mike took off. Before he turned off his phone, he asked me to tell you. Don't make a fuss."
The wind whipped past my ears.
Sophie gave a soft laugh. "He's all mine for the next few days, so you'd better know your place if you really want to marry him."
The breakfast bag in my hand was buffeted by the wind.
Hot oatmeal spilled out, burning the back of my hand.
The pain only hit my heart a moment later.
On the flight info screen, Michael's flight status flipped to "Departed."
Last year, on my birthday, he was flying, too.
At midnight, I got a photo from him, a view of the clouds from the cockpit.
Michael: [Emily, I'll make it up to you when I get back.]
Later, Sophie shared that photo on her feed.
She captioned it: [Someone is spending New Year's Eve with me above the clouds.]
That day, I asked him about it.
Michael frowned, "It was her first time on a long-haul flight, and she was nervous. I was being nice to a passenger. Do you really have to be so petty?"
The automatic doors behind me slid open and closed, and the sound of rolling suitcases echoed from behind.
Someone bumped into me, and the breakfast bag dropped to the floor.
The raviolis spilled all over the floor.
A cleaning lady bent down to pick them up, but I crouched down first, snatching up the paper bag before she could.
My phone lit up again.
It was Michael's mom, Vivian.
Vivian: [Emily, did you upset Mike again? He's flying a transoceanic flight today. He's under a lot of pressure. Can't you at least try to act like his fiancée?]
Another voice message popped up right after.
Vivian: [Sophie is a good girl. She knows how to take care of Mike. Stop always being so suspicious of her.]
I stared at that voicemail for a long time.
Over the loudspeakers, they started boarding another flight.
In that moment, I didn't feel like explaining anything anymore.
A taxi pulled up to the curb.
The driver asked, "Where to?"
I told him the old address for the Jordan family.
No one had lived there for a long time.
After my parents passed away, I moved into the house Michael picked out for us, so it'd be easier for me to look after him.
The house was in his name.
Our wedding photos hung in the most prominent spot in the living room.
I always thought that if I was good enough, if I waited long enough, he'd eventually turn around and see me.
Outside the taxi window, a plane cut a white line beneath the clouds.
I took him off my favorites, the contact I'd pinned for seven years.
Michael's name dropped from the top spot.
As the taxi left the airport overpass, I tossed the cold breakfast into a trash can by the side of the road.
The key to the old house was tucked under the mailbox.
When I pushed the door open, a cloud of dust hit me in the face.
In the center of the living room stood a piano draped in a white cloth, the very one my mother used to play when she was alive.
The first time Michael came here, he was wearing a white shirt, standing by the piano as he listened to me finish playing a song.
When the music ended, he leaned in and gently brushed away the hair that had fallen on my shoulder. "Emily, you're so amazing. If I don't marry you, I'd have to be blind."
That line became everyone's excuse for telling me to put up with it.
"It's not that Michael doesn't love you."
"He's busy."
"He won't admit it."
"He feels guilty about Sophie."