The Co-pilot Seat Was Never Mine

Olivia spent eight years by Ethan's side, watching him work his way up from first officer to captain.

During his busiest year, I quit my job and planned my meals around his flight schedule.

Once, I asked him, Can you take me up to see the world from ten thousand meters, just once?

He coldly replied, "That's a workplace, not an amusement park."

I said okay, and never brought it up again.

Until one night, I found a hidden album on his phone.

It contained a silhouette of a woman sitting in his cockpit.

The next morning, I brewed coffee as usual and drank it in silence.

Then I opened my laptop, wrote a resignation letter, and booked a flight to Texas.

Eight years.

I finally decided I wouldn't look up to him anymore, wouldn't track his flight path.

"Why are you up so early today?"

Ethan emerged from the bedroom, pulling his flight bag, his brows slightly furrowed.

I held my mug.

"Couldn't sleep, so I got up for coffee."

He walked to the kitchen island, picked up the other cup of hot milk I'd just poured, and took a sip.

"Did you stay up late again watching those useless shows last night?"

"No."

"Olivia, your sleep schedule is completely off these days."

He checked his watch, his tone laced with his usual instructing manner.

"I've got a Frankfurt run later, four days round trip."

"Okay."

He seemed surprised by my overly calm reaction today.

Usually, when he flew international long-hauls, I'd pack his stomach medicine, melatonin, and neck pillow a day in advance, making sure they were in his flight bag.

I'd also remind him repeatedly to text me when he landed.

Today, I did nothing but sit on the high stool and watch him.

"Where did you put my stomach medicine?" He rummaged through the side pocket of his bag.

"Second drawer under the TV cabinet. Grab it yourself."

His movements paused, and he turned to look at me.

"What's wrong with you today? You can't even walk a few feet?"

"I'm a little tired."

He sighed, walked to the TV cabinet, pulled open the drawer, took out the medicine box, and tucked it into his pocket.

"You're home all day, I don't know what you're tired from."

His phone lit up.

A text message popped up.

The contact name was a little bear emoji.

"Ethan, it's getting cold in Frankfurt today, remember to bring a thick coat."

Ethan picked up his phone, the screen's light illuminating the slight upturn of his lips.

He quickly typed a reply with one hand, not even bothering to zip up his luggage.

"A colleague's message?" I asked, looking at the bear emoji.

He locked the screen and slipped his phone into his pants pocket.

"Yeah, Chloe. She's on this flight too, in the main cabin."

"Isn't she usually a purser on domestic flights?"

"Temporary reassignment. She's helping out with some new recruits."

He answered so naturally, as if he didn't need to think twice for an excuse.

I looked at his tall, straight back, remembering the forty-plus pictures in that hidden album from last night.

"Ethan."

"What is it?" He was changing his shoes.

"Do you remember what day next Wednesday is?"

He didn't stop putting on his shoes.

"Next Wednesday? I have a simulator re-training at work. Why?"

"Never mind."

Next Wednesday was our eighth anniversary.

Eight years ago, on a Wednesday, he got his first officer job offer. He was so excited, he picked me up and spun me around in our tiny apartment.

He said that someday, high above the clouds, he'd pick out the most beautiful ones for me.

He forgot.

"I'm leaving. I'll text you when I land."

He pushed the door open.

"Ethan." I called out to him again.

His hand was on the doorknob, a hint of impatience in his voice.

"Now what? The crew car is waiting downstairs."

"Your flight bag zipper isn't fully closed."

He glanced down, then casually zipped it up.

"Got it. You're acting really strange today."

The door closed.

The house plunged back into silence.

I walked to my computer and clicked 'send' on the resignation letter I'd just finished.

Then I opened the ticketing app and confirmed that one-way ticket to Texas, seven days from now.

Seven days. Enough time for me to erase eight years of my life here.

My phone rang. It was my best friend, Sophia.

"Did you submit your resignation?"

"I did."

"Once you've decided, no backing out. When are you going to tell Ethan?"

"The day I leave."

Sophia was silent for a few seconds on the other end.

"Olivia, eight years of your life, just going to let it go so silently?"

"I don't want it anymore."

I looked at the now cold milk on the kitchen island.

"Sophia, have you ever seen the sunset pictures he takes for other people?"

"What?"

"They're beautiful. Even the light on the wing is so gentle."

I flipped my phone face down on the table.

"Too bad they weren't for me."

In the afternoon, I went to the building management office.

I had my fingerprint deleted from the access system for this apartment.

The building manager, a kindly elderly woman, looked confused as I did it.

"Mrs. Hayes, why on earth would you delete your fingerprint? It'll be so inconvenient getting in and out."

"I won't need to anymore," I smiled.

Back home, I dragged two large cardboard boxes from the storage room and started packing.

This house was huge, a spacious river-view penthouse, two thousand square feet, that Ethan had paid for in full.

He said it was to thank me for enduring the toughest times with him.

I thought this was our home.

Now I realized, my belongings were pitifully few.

In the walk-in closet, only two racks of clothes belonged to me.

The rest were all his uniforms for different seasons, suits, trench coats, and sports gear.

I folded my everyday clothes and put them in a suitcase.

The expensive evening gowns he bought me, but which weren't my style, remained untouched on their hangers.

On the bedside table sat an airline model plane.

It was a souvenir from his first international flight.

I picked it up, and underneath, there was a photo.

It was a picture of us from four years ago.

He had just been promoted to captain then, full of youthful vigor.

I gently pulled the photo out and tossed it into the nearby trash can.

The model went back to its spot.

In the evening, my phone vibrated.

A SnapChat message from Ethan.

"Landed, just got to the hotel."

Normally, I'd reply immediately, asking if he was tired, if the hotel bed was comfortable.

Today, I just sent one word.

"Okay."

Half an hour later, he sent another.

"It's really cold here in Germany. Do you want me to buy you any duty-free stuff?"

I was packing my bottles and jars from the bathroom counter into my makeup bag.

"No, thanks."

"Didn't you always bug me about getting that specific serum?"

I looked at my reflection in the mirror.

"No, thanks. I don't want it anymore."

No reply came from his end.

Maybe he thought I was being unreasonable, or maybe he was busy looking after someone else.

I opened Chloe's Ins profile.

The first post was from ten minutes ago.

A night view of the Rhine River.

Next to it, a glass of mulled wine, with a man's hand resting on the rim.

The middle finger of that hand had a faint scar.

Ethan got it cutting fruit; I'd even changed his dressing for a week back then.

Chloe's caption read:

"The wind in Frankfurt is cold, but the mulled wine is warm. A flight taken care of by someone is always the best journey."

A few of their company colleagues had liked it.

Someone commented, "Ethan must've treated, right? Chloe, you're so lucky."

Chloe replied with a shy emoji.

I calmly closed Ins.

The sharp pang in my chest had finally gone numb.

For eight years, like a fool, I'd been blind, feeding myself on his empty promises.

He wasn't careless, he wasn't unromantic.

He just saved all his care and romance for someone else.

A few days later, Ethan's flight landed.

At seven in the evening, he pushed open the front door.

In his hand, a beautifully wrapped gift box.

I sat on the sofa, watching him change his shoes.

"Why didn't you make dinner?" He glanced at the empty dining table.

"I already ate."

His frown deepened.

"I flew for over ten hours, and I can't even get a hot meal when I get home?"

"You can order takeout."

He slammed the gift box onto the coffee table.

"Olivia, what's with this attitude of yours these past two days?"

"I don't have an attitude."

"No attitude? You haven't sent a single message? I asked you if you wanted anything and you wouldn't say."

I looked at the gift box.

"Is that for me?"

He froze for a moment, his eyes darting away.

"This is... someone asked me to bring it back for them. I'll get yours tomorrow at the mall."

Someone.

"Chloe asked you to get it?" I looked him in the eye.

His face darkened.

"You went through my phone?"

"Her Ins profile is public for everyone to see."

He breathed a sigh of relief, his tone immediately becoming self-righteous again.

"She helped me with something, what's the big deal about getting her a gift? Do you have to be so petty?"

"I didn't say anything."

"This cold, distant look says it all!" He impatiently tore off his tie. "She's a colleague, we see each other all the time at work, what's wrong with me looking out for her?"

"You look out for her very well." I stood up, unwilling to argue anymore.

"Olivia!"

He called out from behind me.

"I've had a long day. Can you just be reasonable? Don't make me come home and have to deal with your moods."

Reasonable.

I'd been reasonable for eight years.

So I swallowed my tears and walked into the guest room without looking back.

"I'll sleep in here tonight. Get some good rest."

Over the next two days, I systematically cleaned out my life.

The Monstera plant in the living room was mine; I gave it to the elderly neighbor next door.

The rocking chair on the balcony was my choice; I called a second-hand recycler to take it away.

Ethan seemed oblivious to the missing items in the house.

He just thought I was pleasantly quiet these days.

"Why couldn't you always be like this?"

On Friday morning, he sat at the dining table, eating the instant dumplings I'd haphazardly cooked.

"Chloe's birthday is tonight. A few of the crew are getting together for dinner. You should come with me."

My hand stopped wiping the table.

"What would I go for?"

"Didn't you always complain that I never brought you to meet my colleagues? Well, everyone's going tonight, you can meet them."

His tone was like an offering.

I used to beg him to let me be part of his world.

He'd say, "They're all pilots, you wouldn't understand what they're talking about. You'd just be bored."

Now he was actively asking me to go, all because it was Chloe's birthday.

"Okay," I agreed.

I wanted to see for myself what place Chloe held in his colleagues' eyes.

At eight that evening, we arrived at the Japanese restaurant.

The private room door opened, and six or seven people were already seated.

Chloe sat at the head of the table, wearing a white French-style maxi dress, with a familiar necklace around her neck.

It was the item from the gift box I'd seen on the coffee table the day before yesterday.

"Ethan, Olivia's here!"

Chloe stood up, smiling, and came to greet us.

"Nice to meet you, Olivia! Ethan talks about you all the time. So glad to finally meet you today."

She reached out, intending to take my hand warmly.

I avoided her touch.

"Happy birthday," I said flatly.

The atmosphere in the room went awkward for a moment.

Ethan pulled me to a seat and whispered a warning, "Don't you dare give me any attitude today."

During dinner, everyone talked about flight-related things.

Which routes had rough turbulence, or which control towers had the most difficult controllers.

I truly didn't understand, nor did I care to listen.

"Speaking of which, Ethan's landings are truly flawless."

A first officer laughed, raising his glass.

"Chloe knows best. Whenever Ethan's flying, Chloe in the main cabin doesn't even spill her coffee."

Chloe chuckled, covering her mouth.

"That's right, Ethan's skills are famous throughout the company. Last time we flew to Narita and hit a thunderstorm, my legs were like jelly, but Ethan texted me from the cockpit saying, 'I got this. Don't worry,' and I instantly felt at ease."

Everyone at the table started teasing them.

Ethan laughed along, not refuting, his gaze even carrying a hint of indulgence.

I lowered my head and took a sip of tea; it was already cold and somewhat bitter.

Thunderstorm.

I remembered that Narita flight.

It was delayed by five hours due to weather. I was so anxious at home that I couldn't sleep, and I called him over a dozen times, but he never picked up.

Later, he texted back, "Busy with work, don't make things difficult."

Turns out, he was busy comforting Chloe in the cabin.

"Olivia, don't you usually look after Ethan?"

Chloe suddenly turned the conversation to me.

"Ethan has a sensitive stomach. Yesterday, I saw him skip breakfast and fly the simulator, it really made us colleagues worried."

Her tone carried undisguised blame.

The table fell silent, everyone looking at me.

"He's an adult. He knows how to order takeout," I said, putting down my teacup.

Chloe froze, her eyes instantly reddening.

"Olivia, I didn't mean anything by it. I was just worried about Ethan..."

"Olivia, have you had enough?"

Ethan's face was ashen.

"Everyone's here to have a good time, why do you have to be so passive-aggressive and make a scene?"

"Did I say anything to make a scene?" I looked at him calmly.

"Chloe was kindly reminding you to care about me, and that's your attitude!"

"Ethan." I stood up, grabbing my bag.

"Since someone else cares so much about your stomach, you won't need me to worry about it anymore."

"Olivia! You dare walk out that door!"

He roared behind me.

I pushed open the restaurant door without a moment's hesitation.

The cold air in the hallway hit my face, and I took a deep breath of the outside air.

Eight years. I finally didn't have to crush myself for his sake anymore.

Back home, I packed up the rest of my books into boxes.

Just waiting for next Wednesday.

Ethan didn't come home that night.

He only walked in the door around noon the next day, smelling faintly of woody perfume.

It was Chloe's usual scent.

He tossed his car keys on the entryway table and glared at me, his face cold.

"Did you throw enough of a tantrum last night?"

I was sealing a cardboard box with tape, not looking up.

"Are you deaf?" He walked over and kicked the box. "What are you doing packing all this junk?"

"Just organizing things I don't need anymore."

He scoffed.

"Olivia, your 'play hard to get' act is getting old. Do you think I'll come crawling back to you if you give me the silent treatment for a few days?"

I straightened up, dusting off my hands.

"I wasn't trying to make you come back."

"Then what's this attitude? Chloe cried for almost an hour last night because of what you said. You owe her an apology."

"I won't apologize."

"You're completely unreasonable!"

He irritably ran a hand through his hair and sat down on the sofa.

"I don't have time to waste on this. Next Wednesday, I'm flying an Aurora Borealis route to Reykjavik. If you admit you were wrong, I'll give you the complimentary family ticket I'd set aside for Chloe, and take you to see the Northern Lights."

I froze.

The Northern Lights.

Six years ago, I was diagnosed with a thyroid nodule. It was benign, but I was terrified at the time.

He held my hand by the hospital bed and said, "Once you're better, I'll take you to see the Aurora. You'll sit on my flight, and we'll watch the most beautiful night sky together."

He'd put off that promise for six years.

Now, he was using that six-year-old promise as a handout, a way for me to climb down.

And that ticket, it was originally for Chloe.

"You don't care?" He frowned, seeing my silence. "Do you know how hard it is to get a complimentary ticket for that route? Chloe begged me for ages before I agreed. I'm only changing my mind for you because it's our eighth anniversary."

"Give the ticket to Chloe," I said, looking at him, my voice so quiet I could barely hear it myself.

"What did you say?"

"I said, give the ticket to her. I don't need it."

Ethan abruptly stood up, his face terribly dark.

"Olivia, don't push your luck. I've given you the chance; if you're just screwing yourself over, don't come crying to me later."

"I won't beg you."

He violently smashed a glass on the coffee table.

Shards flew, cutting my calf.

He didn't even glance at it, turning and slamming the door behind him.

I looked down at the drops of blood on my calf, pulling a tissue to wipe them away.

It didn't hurt. It truly didn't hurt anymore.

Time flew by to next Wednesday.

Our eighth anniversary.

And the day my resignation took effect, the day I left this city.

I dragged my only suitcase and took a taxi to the airport.

My flight to Texas was scheduled for three in the afternoon.

After checking in, I sat in the waiting area, watching planes take off and land outside the window.

The Aurora Borealis flight was scheduled to depart at 2 PM.

Ethan should be in the left seat now, preparing for pushback.

I opened my phone, wanting to check his flight status one last time, to put a period on these eight years.

His crew information popped up on my flight tracker app.

The Captain's name wasn't Ethan.

It was a different, unfamiliar name.

I froze.

Had he gotten sick and been temporarily replaced?

Just then, my peripheral vision caught sight of the entrance to the first-class lounge not far away.

A man in a casual trench coat was wheeling a pink suitcase into it.

Beside him was a woman in a matching trench coat.

She was affectionately linked arm-in-arm with him, her head resting on his shoulder.

It was Ethan and Chloe.

I stood rooted to the spot, watching them enter the lounge.

I overheard two airline staff members chatting nearby.

"Wasn't that Ethan who just went in? Wasn't he supposed to be flying to Reykjavik today?"

"He took some last-minute vacation days. Heard it's to go with Chloe to Finland."

"Chloe was bragging in the group chat all yesterday, saying Ethan skipped his Aurora Borealis flight for her, buying a passenger ticket just to go on a long vacation with her."

"How romantic, Ethan really goes all out for Chloe."

I suddenly found it a little funny.

So he hadn't given me the complimentary ticket he'd set aside for Chloe.

He had, for Chloe's sake, abandoned his duties as a pilot, personally planning an Aurora trip for just the two of them.

The boarding announcement for my flight came over the loudspeaker.

I boarded the plane.

And Ethan, who had taken vacation days for Chloe, was in the first-class cabin of another plane.

I looked out at the sea of clouds.

Eight years. I was finally free.