I expected turbulence in the air, not in my marriage. One moment, we were boarding with twin toddlers, diaper bags, and chaos—and the next, my husband Eric slipped behind the business-class curtain with a smug grin. “Snagged an upgrade, babe! You’ll be fine with the kids,” he said.
So, there I was in row 32B, one baby crying for pretzels while the other poured juice down my jeans. Meanwhile, Eric texted me photos of warm towels and champagne. I just sighed and filmed a short clip for his parents—me, the twins, and not a trace of their son. My father-in-law sent back a single thumbs-up emoji. 👍
When we landed, Eric strolled off the plane looking refreshed and proud of himself. But at baggage claim, his father’s usual warmth was gone. The silence between them said more than any words could.
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