The attendant asked them to clear the aisle.
Victoria looked at her husband one last time.
“We’ll speak when we land.”
Ethan’s expression hardened.
“Your hotel room isn’t available.”
She stopped.
“What?”
“I changed the arrangements.”
Sloane turned toward him.
“Ethan.”
He ignored her.
Victoria waited.
Behind her, someone shifted impatiently.
That was what he wanted.
A line of witnesses.
A clock.
A situation in which leaving felt easier than asking another question.
She pulled the coat over her arm.
“Then I’ll find another room.”
“You’re being unreasonable.”
Victoria walked away before she answered.
At eighteen A, she placed her handbag beneath the seat and sat by the window.
Her hands began shaking.
For several minutes, she concentrated on ordinary tasks.
Fasten the belt.
Put the phone away.
Move the coat.
She could do those things even if she could not yet understand the rest.
The passenger beside her was an older woman carrying a paperback.
She did not ask questions.
When Victoria’s tears finally slipped free, the woman quietly offered a packet of tissues.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
That was all.
Victoria turned toward the window.
The aircraft door closed.
Until then, some part of her had expected Ethan to come down the aisle, look ashamed, and explain that the whole thing had been a terrible misunderstanding.
He did not.
As the plane began moving, her phone received one final message.
“Please don’t contact the hotel people. We need to present a united front.”
Victoria read it twice.
Then she took a screenshot.
He had excluded her from the trip.
Yet he still expected access to the people who had invited her.
