I floated on denial like a life raft: sister, cousin, some long-lost friend. Anything but what my skin already knew. When the seatbelt sign pinged off, I stood on legs that didn’t feel like mine and drifted up the aisle, pretending I needed the bathroom. One glance at 15C nearly took me down. She was younger, effortlessly pretty, dark blonde hair tucked behind one ear, her hand resting on a rounded belly that rose under a soft sweater. She sipped orange juice like this was any forgettable Thursday. I locked myself in the lavatory and sobbed into my fist until my ribs throbbed, mascara bleeding under the harsh fluorescent light while strangers queued outside. By landing, the tears had calcified into something colder. I followed her through the jet bridge, watched her veer toward the crew corridor, and saw Daniel’s whole face ignite as he kissed her like muscle memory. “You’re insane for doing that over the speaker,” she laughed. “So this is the wife you’re about to divor… Continues…