"When I retire," he'd said with that rare, charming smile that used to make my knees weak, "we'll go far away. I'll show you the world from above the clouds."
He kept his promise. But the cruel irony was that my first flight wasn't a vacation—it was a mission to reunite my husband with another woman.
The engines roared to life, drowning out the cabin, but they couldn't drown out the memories drifting back from decades ago.
Elijah came from nothing. His family was destitute, unable to scrape together tuition for his studies. Amy's family was in the same boat—too poor to support his ambition to take the college entrance exam.
Faced with a choice between love and his future, Elijah chose himself. He broke up with Amy decisively.
By the time I entered the picture, introduced by relatives, I knew the history. I was the safe choice. The stable choice.
He chose me, I had told myself back then. He gave up the past. If I just love him enough, if I treat him with sincerity, we will have a good life.
I was young. I was foolish.