Final Boarding Call: Divorcing My Billionaire Husband

I am a flight attendant.

My husband is incredibly successful, but he doesn't love me.

Every month, he takes a flight that I am working on.

And every time, he brings a different glamorous woman by his side.

My heart bleeds, but I can only endure it in silence.

The last time, right before the plane was about to land, I walked over, leaned down to his ear, and whispered softly:

"Carter, I agree to the divorce. I have tomorrow off. Let's go get it done."

The plane was cruising smoothly at thirty thousand feet.

I was at the rear galley organizing the meal carts when the lead flight attendant, the purser, walked over.

I stood up straight. "Purser."

She took the checklist from my hands and looked it over.

"You're qualified to be promoted to First Class service. Why don't you put in for it?"

"I don't think I'm good enough yet. I still have a lot to learn."

"Humility is a virtue, but being too humble isn't good for your career. Go heat up the meals."

She handed the checklist back to me and returned to First Class.

My gaze followed her, landing on the passenger in seat 1A.

No one on this crew knew that the VIP in First Classour airlines most elite black card holderwas my husband.

But sitting next to him was a stunning, radiant woman.

I couldn't go to First Class.

I couldn't bring myself to smile, crouch down, and provide flawless service to my own husband and whatever woman he had brought along.

Even though we had been married for a year, we had never truly been husband and wife.

I was forced onto Carter by his grandfather.

My grandfather and Carters grandfather had served in the military together.

On our wedding night, he unbuttoned his shirt halfway, stood up, and went out to the balcony to smoke.

Halfway through his cigarette, he turned his head.

"I own a lot of properties. I probably won't be coming home every day. Do whatever you want with your time."

He kept his word.

He only came back to our marital home about once a month.

Later, rumors of him with other women started splashing across the tabloids.

Before I even had the chance to call and ask him about it, he called me first.

"If you want a divorce, I will agree to it at any time."

That single sentence choked the words right out of my throat.

That day, all I could do was nod.

"I understand."

A few weeks later, he came home.

"Still haven't filed?"

At that moment, it hit me like a physical blowhe was desperate to end this marriage.

I just went to bed early, completely ignoring the topic.

In the middle of the night, my pillow was soaked with tears. No one knew that I had fallen in love with him a long time ago.

We had actually met seven years prior.

But he had long forgotten.

"Hello, here is your chicken entre. Please enjoy."

After handing out the meals, I pulled the cart through the premium cabin.

He was busy working on his laptop.

The woman beside him, draped in a vibrant silk scarf, was admiring the clouds outside the window.

The purser walked over and knelt politely beside them.

"Sir, would you like to change into some slippers? I can help you with your shoes."

"I can manage, thank you." He politely declined.

"Ma'am, let me help you with your shoes so you can change into slippers."

The woman pulled her gaze away from the window. "Thank you."

The moment Carter looked up, our eyes met. I immediately averted my gaze, quickly pulling the meal cart down the aisle and out of sight.

Two hours later, the plane landed.

"Have a great day, goodbye."

As they deplaned, the woman linked her arm through his, the wind catching her long, wavy hair.

"Still staring? They're already in their private car."

I turned around to find my colleagues grabbing their luggage bags, getting ready to disembark.

"I'm sorry, Purser."

"Do you like him?"

I shook my head instantly. "No."

She patted my shoulder and smiled. "Don't pass up the next promotion."

That night, Carter came home.

I didn't expect him to.

When he walked in, I was sitting on the sofa, watching TV with damp hair.

Honestly, my mind was entirely blank; I hadn't absorbed a single second of the show.

He was tall and imposing. The moment he stepped inside, the entire penthouse felt smaller.

I wanted to ask him about earlier, but the image of them on the plane flashed through my mind, and I swallowed my words.

He walked over, sat on the opposite sofa, and took a phone call.

That was when I caught the faint scent of alcohol on him.

I grabbed a bag of potato chips, ripped it open, and started eating them one by one.

"Tomorrow, 9 AM morning briefing."

He hung up the phone and looked at me.

I looked back at him.

"Nothing you want to ask?"

I shook my head.

Putting the chips down, I walked into the bathroom.

In the mirror, my face looked terrifyingly pale and quiet.

When I came out, he was out on the balcony.

A few seconds later, the glow from his phone screen vanished. He turned sideways, a faint smile lingering on his lips before it quickly faded away.

I stood frozen, speechless.

His happiness, in the end, had absolutely nothing to do with me.

He slept in the guest room.

I woke up extremely early to head to the airport.

He was up, too.

The elevator descended, but we stood on opposite sides of the cab.

When we reached the lobby, I stepped out, while he took it down to the parking garage.

The weather that day was horrendous. During the flight, we encountered severe turbulence, and the plane dropped violently multiple times.

After we finally landed safely, everyone wept in relief.

That particular flight even went viral on the news.

Standing in the bustling terminal, I stopped and checked my phone.

Not a single call.

My sorrow, in the end, had absolutely nothing to do with him either.

The next time I saw him was a month later, on a flight from JFK to LAX.

The weather that day was absolutely gorgeous.

The sun was shining brightly, and the flight was incredibly smooth.

He brought the exact same girl from last time.

She had very pale skin.

Halfway through the flight, she rested her head on his shoulder and fell into a peaceful sleep.

It also happened to be a holiday.

International Women's Day.

The airline had prepared roses.

"Ladies and gentlemen, today is International Women's Day. Our airline has prepared a rose for every female passenger on board. May all the women flying with us today live fearlessly and gracefully."

"Happy holidays to you!"

"Thank you, the airline is so thoughtful."

"I don't even get flowers on normal holidays, who knew I'd get one on a plane."

"Happy holidays to you too, miss."

After handing out the flowers, I glanced toward the premium cabin.

The purser was handing a rose to the girl sleeping beside him.

"Happy holidays. I'll just leave this flower on your tray table, alright?"

"Sure."

I went back to the galley, washed the serving trays, and sat down in my jump seat.

I stared out at the sea of clouds.

My heart felt quiet, yet it ached deeply.

The clouds began to part.

My freezing fingers twitched.

I tilted my head back.

Some people are just not meant to be yours.

Let it go. Let him walk away.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we will be beginning our initial descent into LAX in thirty minutes... We hope to see you on your next journey."

The plane was about to lower its altitude.

I stood up, walked over to him, and whispered softly.

"Carter, I agree to the divorce. I have tomorrow off. Let's go get it done."

10

After work.

I dragged a massive suitcase behind me.

I pressed my thumb against the biometric lock and pushed the door open.

Rarely, he was home early.

Was it because we were getting a divorce?

The penthouse wouldn't feel so suffocating to him anymore, so he finally came home early?

I hauled my suitcase inside.

I started the rice cooker in the kitchen, then went to the master bedroom and began packing.

He came and stood in the doorway for a moment.

"Don't pack. You can keep the house."

My body stiffened.

I turned around and shook my head.

"You bought this place before we got married. I didn't contribute a single cent. I can't take it."

With that, I went back to packing.

He stood there for another minute before walking away.

It was a good thing he left.

Folding my clothes one by one into the suitcase, sweeping all my skincare bottles off the vanity and packing them away to take with me.

It felt like I had merely been a temporary guest here.

Now, it was time to move out.

In that moment, I couldn't feel even a shred of evidence that I was ever the lady of this house.

Pathetic, pitiful, useless.

11

I hadn't expected him to be home tonight.

So I hadn't bought any groceries.

There was no need to act like the past, either. Whenever he came home before, I used to cook a multi-course meal, desperately trying to win his heart through his stomach.

Once the rice was done, I went down to the deli on the ground floor and bought some cold salads and sides.

"Let's eat."

He put down his book by the floor-to-ceiling window and walked over.

The food on the table clearly surprised him.

"I thought you weren't coming back and we were just meeting at the lawyers' office tomorrow, so I didn't buy groceries. We'll just have to make do tonight." I took a bite of plain white rice.

To my surprise, the usually incredibly picky man actually sat down.

We ate in total silence.

Halfway through, he spoke.

"Where did you buy the deli sides? They're actually pretty good."

He even finished the entire bowl of rice I had scooped for him.