I anticipated flying turbulence, not marital turmoil. In a flash, I was left with diaper bags and twin kids while my husband went into business class behind a curtain.
You know when you know your lover is about to do something crazy but your brain won’t believe it? I was at Terminal C’s gate with baby wipes in my pocket, one twin on my chest, and the other chewing my sunglasses.
My husband Eric, me, and our 18-month-old twins, Ava and Mason, were going on our first family vacation. To see his parents in a pastel-colored retirement community outside Tampa, we went to Florida.
His father is counting down the days till he meets his grandchildren. After FaceTimeing so much, Mason calls every white-haired man “Papa”.
Yes, we were stressed. Strollers, car seats, diaper bags, etc. At the gate, Eric leaned over and said, “I’m just gonna check something real quick,” and disappeared toward the desk.
Was I suspicious? Honestly, no. I was preoccupied with preventing diaper explosions before takeoff.
Boarding began.
The gatekeeper scanned his ticket and grinned too much. Eric smugly smiled at me and said, “See you later, Babe. I got upgraded. You’ll handle the kids, right?”
I blinked. In fact, laughed. Thought it was a joke.
It wasn’t.
Before I could absorb it, he kissed my cheek and went into business class, hiding behind that pompous curtain like a traitor prince.
The cosmos watched me crack as two kids melted down and a stroller collapsed slowly. He thought he’d pulled it off. Karma was already on board.
By the time I slumped into seat 32B, I was sweating through my hoodie, both babies were squabbling over a sippy cup, and my tolerance was running out.
Ava instantly threw half her apple juice on me.
“Cool,” I said, soaking my jeans with a sour milk-scented burp cloth.
The man next to me smiled painfully and pressed the call button.
“Can I be moved?” he requested the flight attendant. “It’s… a bit noisy here.”
I could’ve cried. Instead, I nodded and let him go, hoping I could burrow into the overhead bin with him.
My phone buzzed.
Eric.
Food is great up here. They even provided a warm towel 😍”
A heated towel—while I cleaned spit-up from my chest with a baby wipe off the floor.
I didn’t reply. I stared at his message like it would explode.
My father-in-law pings again.
“Send me plane footage of my grandkids! Fly like huge kids!”
I groaned, flipped my camera, and recorded Ava beating her tray table like a small DJ, Mason chomping on his plush giraffe like it owed him money, and me—pale, stressed, with greasy hair and a soul halfway out of my body.
Eric? No shadow.
I sent.
He replied with a simple 👍 seconds later.
I assumed that ended it.
It wasn’t.
I managed two exhausted toddlers, three large luggage, and a stubborn stroller when we landed. I looked like a war refugee. Eric left the gate behind me, yawning and stretching like he got a full-body massage.
“Man, that was a great flight,” quipped. Did you tried pretzels? Wait… He chuckled.
I didn’t glance at him. I couldn’t. My father-in-law waited at baggage claim, arms out, beaming.
He hugged Ava, saying, “Look at my grandbabies!” “And look at you, Mama — champion of the skies.”
Eric advanced with arms open. “Hey, Pops!”
His father refused. His gaze was fixed on him. Stone-faced.
Coldly, he said, “Son… we’ll talk later.”
Indeed, we would.
I heard it that night after the twins fell asleep and I washed off the day.
“Eric. In study. Now.”
It wasn’t necessary for my father-in-law’s voice to be loud. It had that tone that made you sit up straight and inspect your socks. Eric didn’t argue. He whispered something and followed him with a detention-bound look.
I pretended to scroll through my phone in the living room, but the muffled shouting began instantly.
“You think that was funny?”
“I thought it wasn’t a big—”
“—left your wife with two toddlers—”
“She said she could handle—”
“That’s not the damn point, Eric!”
I froze.
Another 15 minutes passed before the door opened. My FIL emerged first—cool as ever. He approached me, rubbed my shoulder like I’d won a war, and whispered, “Don’t worry, love. I handled it.”
No eye contact from Eric. He went upstairs silently.
The following morning, everything felt strangely normal. Breakfast, cartoons, pandemonium. Eric’s mother called from the kitchen, “We’re eating out tonight! My treat!”
Eric quickly brightened. “Nice! Anywhere fancy?”
Just smiled and replied, “You’ll see.”
We found this lovely seaside restaurant. White tables, live jazz, candlelight—a whispering place.
Drink orders were taken by the waiter. FIL went first.
“I’ll have your house bourbon, neat.”
His wife spoke. “Iced tea for me, please.”
He regarded me. “Sparkling water, right?”
“Perfect,” I replied, delighted for the peace.
He turned stone-faced to Eric.
“Give him a glass of milk. Since he can’t handle adulthood.”
The hush was thick.
Then—laughter. Behind her menu, his wife laughed. Very nearly spit out my water. Even the waiter smiled.
Eric appeared to want to crawl under the table. He was silent throughout the lunch. It wasn’t even the best.
Two days later, my FIL surprised me folding laundry on the porch.
He continued, “Just wanted you to know,” leaning on the railing, “I updated the will.”
I blinked. “What?”
There’s an Ava and Mason trust. College, first car, whatever they need. I always looked after the kids and their mama for you.”
Unable to speak. He grinned.
“And Eric’s cut? Growing smaller unless he remembers to prioritize his family.”
Just to mention… Eric’s memory was about to improve.
Eric became domestically enthusiastic the morning of our flight home.
“I’ll carry the car seats,” he said, lifting one like it was nothing. “You want me to take Mason’s diaper bag too?”
Raising an eyebrow, I said nothing. Ava was teething and unhappy, so I had no energy for snark.
“Oh, looks like you’ve been upgraded again, sir,” she beaming.
Eric blinked. “Wait, what?”
He received the pass in a thick paper sleeve from the agent. I observed his face pale when he saw the front writing.
“What is it?” I asked, moving Ava on my shoulder.
He displayed a strange, twitching smile.
In big black ink, the ticket sleeve read:
“Business class again. Enjoy. This is one-way. Explain it to your wife.”
I grabbed the ticket, read it, and recognized the handwriting.
“Oh my God,” I said. “Your dad did not…”
“He did,” Eric mumbled, scratching his neck. “He suggested I’relax in luxury’” I’m going to a hotel alone for a few days to ‘think about priorities.’”
I couldn’t resist laughing. Loudly. Possibly maniacal.
“Guess karma does recline fully now,” I replied, passing him with both kids.
Eric trailed his roller bag sheepishly.
Before boarding, he asked quietly, “Any chance I can earn my way back to economy?”
Loved this ride? Then you must read the next shocking tale. Imagine a wife planning to surprise her spouse at work. However, she is surprised. Vacation, not work. Curious? Click for the entire story.
Inspired by true events and people, this work is fictionalized for creativity. To preserve privacy and enrich the story, names, characters, and facts were changed. Any resemblance to real people, events, or places is unintentional.
The author and publisher neither guarantee event authenticity nor character characterization and are not liable for misinterpretation. While this work is presented “as is,” the characters’ viewpoints do not reflect those of the author or publisher.