I raised my phone and snapped a photo the moment Agatha turned around with that smug look on her face.
After boarding, I scrolled through her social media, saving every recent post one by one.
Looking at her leaning against Brent's shoulder, smiling that sickeningly sweet smile—a wave of nausea hit me.
The guy in the seat next to mine offered me a mint. "Airsick?"
I blinked, then thanked him and took it.
His ears turned slightly red. "I noticed you earlier. Would you want to exchange numbers?"
Agatha's voice drifted over from the aisle.
"Oh, Eliana! Is this a new friend of yours? I had no idea you were so chatty in private—you're always so quiet!"
I looked up, my eyes passing coolly over her arm linked tightly through Brent's.
"Not as talented as you. You go straight for other women's husbands."
The passengers around us shot looks of disgust her way. Agatha quickly pulled her arm back, biting her lip with a wounded expression. "Eliana, how can you say that? I wasn't feeling well, and Brent was just looking after me. But you're married—maybe you should keep your distance from strange men."
The guy next to me clearly sensed the tension. He gave an awkward explanation: "Sorry, I didn't know she was married..."
Brent's expression darkened. His eyes dropped to my left hand. "Where's your wedding ring?"
"Forgot it at home," I said casually.
"Forgot it at home?" Displeasure flickered across his face. "Since when did you get so scatterbrained? Check if you've got all the hotel and attraction tickets. And buy Agatha's while you're at it."
He guided the suddenly dizzy Agatha back to first class. The guy beside me couldn't help himself: "Your husband treats you like that... and you just take it?"
I smiled. "Not for much longer."
Outside the airport, the hotel had sent a car.
Agatha, who usually fought to sit in the front seat next to Brent, had naturally settled into the back with him instead. She chattered at him the whole way.
It wasn't until check-in, when she learned the room I'd paid extra to secure was on a different floor, that her face fell.
"Brent, I don't know anyone here. Don't leave me all alone..."
Brent pressed the room key into her hand. "Be good. It's only three floors away. Call me if you need anything."
Agatha trudged upstairs to unpack, clearly unhappy.
Just then, Blanche sent over the divorce agreement she'd drafted.
Brent's eyes caught the notification. "What agreement? Do you still have work to deal with?"
I shoved my phone into my pocket and gave a vague "Mm."
Seeing my mood, he finally seemed to remember this was the trip I'd been looking forward to for months. He reached for my hand, his thumb brushing over the spot where my ring should have been.
"Don't be upset. I promise—next time, I won't bring anyone else. Go rest. Tonight I'll take you out for local food."
Back in the room, Brent stepped out for a cigarette. When he returned, he was holding a stick of candied hawthorns.
"Try it. They say the ones here in Harbor City taste different from back home."
I kept my eyes on my phone. "You have it. My teeth hurt."
I used to see people posting photos of those things and get cravings so bad I couldn't stand it. Brent had made a joke of it to Agatha—said I was childish, almost thirty and still wanting kid's candy.
Now he'd snuck out to buy me one, and I didn't want it at all.
When I made no move to take it, he tossed it into the trash and turned cold.
"That's enough. How long are you going to keep this up? You have ten minutes. Get yourself together and meet me downstairs."
