On the eve of our wedding, Elliot Starling suddenly became incredibly busy. He couldn’t even attend the wedding venue to oversee the decorations, as we had planned. Feeling guilty, he called to reassure me. “Riverhaven’s got thunderstorms tonight. Be a good girl and stay home, okay? Don’t go out.” “Don’t worry about the setup. All you need to do is show up as the beautiful bride you are.” But I wasn’t convinced. I went to check for myself. And that’s when I saw him. In the massive helicopter parked on the lawn, a woman in a flight attendant’s uniform kneeled between his legs. “Sir, did my service meet your expectations?” Elliot smirked and pulled the woman into his arms. But that was supposed to be my wedding venue. The helicopter? That was supposed to be my dream. …… Content The rain in Riverhaven was relentless, a downpour so wild it shook the skies. By the time I stumbled back home, I was drenched, pale, and shivering like a drowned cat. Feverish and burning up, I fumbled for a fever pill, swallowed it dry, and curled up under a blanket to make a call. “Hello? I’ve changed my mind.” “I want to join Atlantic Skies Airways. Yes, as soon as possible.” I hung up, sneezing hard as the memory of what I’d just witnessed came crashing back. I stayed in Riverhaven for Elliot. Now, I was leaving because of him. The medication kicked in, and I closed my eyes. Not long after, Elliot’s call jolted me awake. His voice on the other end was as soft and soothing as if nothing had changed. “Sienna, I’m swamped. Have you been eating properly?” I coughed twice. Elliot instantly grew concerned. “What’s wrong? Are you sick? Didn’t dress warmly enough, or…” His worry stopped short. A new sharpness entered his tone. “Sienna… you went out, didn’t you?” “Mm,” I murmured weakly. “I went downstairs to grab breakfast. Didn’t realize how bad the rain was.” The tension on his end eased. “I told you not to go out in this storm! We’ll have someone bring whatever you need to the villa.” “Our wedding’s just days away. If you’re too sick to stand, where will I find a bride as beautiful as you?” I didn’t respond. All I could think about was the helicopter on the lawn and the woman in uniform. I was sure Elliot would find someone else. If I couldn’t reach the altar “Sienna?” When I stayed silent, Elliot hesitated. Then, muffled noises: a stifled gasp, interrupted breaths. He growled low at someone near him, half-scolding, half-playful. “Sienna, the rain’s awful. Someone bumped into me out here.” “Be careful, okay? Don’t drive too fast.” “Don’t worry.” Elliot’s tone lightened. “Just thinking about finishing these meetings and returning to you makes me want to push seventy on the highway!” “Gotta go. Call you later.” The line disconnected abruptly, his usual sweet nothings cut short. Moments later, a text arrived: “Sienna, the wedding company just called. There’s a problem with the helicopter we booked—they must send it back for repairs. How about we replace it with a giant floral arch?” Repairs, huh? I thought back to the scene in the helicopter. Or maybe it needed fixing because it got a little too steamy during… whatever that was? Honestly, having a helicopter at the wedding was absurdly extravagant. It was Elliot’s idea. When I was 24, in my first year as a flight attendant, I had a rude passenger pour a scalding cup of water onto my hand. I still had to crouch down and clean the cabin, fighting tears. At the time, Elliot was struggling with his startup. I couldn’t afford to take a break, even with bandages covering my burn. That scar is still there. Elliot had held me back then, his voice trembling as he made a promise: “When I make it big, I’ll take you on a helicopter ride.” “No passengers, no service duties. Just the two of us. Something romantic, just ours.” But he didn’t keep that promise. He gave our romance to someone else. Everything else since then? Just guilt-ridden scraps. I didn’t want them anymore. A confused cat emoji popped up in our chat window. I stared at the keyboard, typing a single word: “Okay.”
When Elliot’s assistant dropped off food for me, I was deep in a feverish sleep and didn’t hear the doorbell. By the time I woke up, the takeout outside was cold. When I opened the bag, everything was exactly what I liked: light and easy to eat. The microwave was there, but I couldn’t bring myself to reheat it. I felt nauseous instead. I shoved the containers into the fridge and called Quinn Sawyer my best friend. “I’m leaving,” I told her. For the next fifteen minutes, she unleashed a tirade against Elliot Starling. “Are you serious? He’s sitting on his high horse now, and you’re just going to walk away quietly? Do you know how much that would benefit him?” “If you ask me, you should marry him first! Gather all the dirt on his cheating and sue him for divorce. Take half his fortune while you’re at it!” “You’ve given him ten years, Sienna. Ten years of your life, and for what? To walk away with nothing?” Ten years. That’s how long Elliot and I had been together. I watched him start from nothing, fail, rebuild, and finally create his brand. The most challenging years were during the pandemic. His fledgling company was on the brink of collapse. My flights were cut by more than half. We had no choice but to give up our spacious apartment and move into a cramped basement apartment. Those days were brutal. It was brutal to the point where we practically fought the rats in the walls for scraps. Elliot had to repay suppliers on time, or it would ruin his credit. He took on grueling manual labor to make ends meet. I begged my boss for extra flights. No matter how disgusting, complex, or dangerous, I took every route they threw at me. Somehow, we survived. I’ll never forget the day we paid off our last debt. Elliot locked the door to the basement, dragged a suitcase in one hand, and held my hand in the other. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and said: “Sienna Raine, thank you for staying by my side.” “I, Elliot Starling, swear to God—one day, I’ll make something of myself and give you the grandest wedding imaginable!” Back then, his sincerity was like crystal—pure and transparent. But years of struggling had dulled its shine. Quinn wasn’t entirely wrong. From an outsider’s perspective, I probably should fight for something to justify my ten years with him. But if I said I didn’t hate Elliot, no one would believe me. There was a moment of rage—when I saw him with that woman in the helicopter. But after that, all I felt was exhaustion. I just wanted to leave. To get far away from him, from this place filled with a decade of memories, and start over. “I don’t want to make this ugly,” I said, lowering my gaze. Call me weak, call me a coward. I didn’t want to rip apart the veil of decency between us and destroy the best parts of our ten years together. Because those years were my youth. No matter how rotten he became, Elliot Starling was the man I had once loved with all my heart. Quinn sighed. “So when are you leaving?” I checked my inbox. Atlantic Skies Airways had already sent the offer letter. “Two days.” In just two days, I would be gone. It was 10 p.m., and Elliot still wasn’t home. Since his career took off, we lived on opposite schedules. Sometimes, I flew red-eye flights and returned to an empty house. Eventually, I requested not to fly at night. I just wanted to return home to some semblance of “us.” I’d gotten used to waiting. But tonight, I didn’t want to wait. Just as I turned off the lights, my phone rang. The sound of running water came through the line, sharp and jarring in the stillness of the night. “Sienna, don’t wait up for me.” “I was supposed to fly back tonight, but the moment I landed, they pulled me into back-to-back meetings.” “Everyone’s scrambling to get things done before I go on wedding leave…” “Don’t be mad, okay? After the wedding, I’ll make it up to you with the best honeymoon ever.” I wanted to ask him: What flight takes off from Liberty Tower’s rooftop terrace and lands at this hotel? What kind of meeting requires participants to shower before joining? But I said none of that. “Work’s important. Take care of yourself, too,” I replied instead. He started to say something, but then the sound of water stopped. Bare feet padded across hardwood. Clothing rustled. I could almost hear someone whispering near his ear. A dull thud followed. His phone hit the ground. Through the line came the unmistakable sounds of lips meeting lips. Maybe he was in such a rush he forgot to hang up. I listened masochistically until a woman’s soft, breathy voice broke through: “Elliot, are you getting married?” Elliot likely lit a cigarette. I could hear the exhale. “What else would I do?” he chuckled. “She’s been with me for ten years. I owe her a title. Can’t have people saying I’m heartless.” The woman sneered, her tone mocking. “What a generous older man. You never wondered if she, as a flight attendant, might’ve been with other men all these years?” Elliot didn’t respond. Unaware of his silence, the woman kept going. “I heard she flew a lot of Mexico flights. Aren’t those notorious?” “Plus, no one in her line of work is sponsor-free. Didn’t she bail you out during your financial crisis?” “Enough!” Elliot roared. “Speak out of turn again, and you’ll regret it! I know who Sienna Raine is, and it’s not your place to judge her!” I hung up, trembling from head to toe. I knew Elliot. He didn’t lose his temper without reason. He had listened, taken it in, and let it sink deep into his heart. Memories of those difficult years resurfaced. To pay off his debts, I flew countless Mexico flights. The conditions were beyond nasty. But worse were the leering stares, the feeling of being prey surrounded by wolves. By the end of each flight, my body bore black handprints I couldn’t wash away. Once, a passenger tricked me into coming to the back of the plane and then dragged me into the restroom to assault me. If not for a colleague passing by and hearing my cries for help, I might not have escaped. On the way home, I cried for hours. But when I reached the door, I dried my tears. I didn’t want Elliot to know. I didn’t want him to feel guilty or worried. So I said nothing—not about that, the men who offered to “sponsor” me or the businessmen who tried to date me. I rejected them all. Because I knew Elliot only had me. And I only had him. I believed in every promise he made and every word he spoke utterly. I believed he’d make it one day. And he did. But now, I didn’t want it anymore.
The following day, I woke up early, determined to start packing. I wanted to sort the more significant items for shipping before I left. I didn’t expect Elliot Starling to walk through the door. The photo frame holding our engagement picture from when I was 27 fell to the floor and shattered. I scrambled to pick it up, only to cut my finger on the broken glass. Blood dripped onto the floor. Elliot rushed over to help, his face full of worry. “You’re not feeling well. Lie down and rest. Let the cleaning lady handle this.” As he spoke, he angrily kicked the photo frame across the room. I froze, staring at the shards of glass and the photo now scattered on the floor. Tears welled in my eyes. That photo… was from the day we got engaged. When Elliot earned his first real paycheck, he bought me a simple white sundress and a modest diamond ring. He dragged me to take engagement photos, grinning the whole time. That same day, he promised to take me to the Liberty Tower Rooftop Terrace for their rotating buffet dinner. “That place costs thousands, doesn’t it?” I said, wincing at the thought. Elliot threw an arm around my shoulder and said confidently, “I make the money; you spend it. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?” I shook my head and teased him. “I hate sushi, and that place serves too much of it. I don’t want to ruin my stomach for days.” “How about this: buy me a big bowl of spicy mac and cheese with extra eggs. Save the rest of the money, and you can take me when I want to go.” He laughed, ruffled my hair, and said, “Deal.” But we never did have that bowl of spicy mac and cheese. And the wedding he promised? That had been postponed for seven years. Seven years gone by in a flash. Elliot noticed my tears and panicked. “Does it hurt?” I shook my head, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “Don’t cry, Sienna,” he said gently, wiping my face. “We’ve got to try on wedding dresses today. You’ll look terrible in photos if your eyes are swollen.” I froze. “Didn’t we already pick one out?” A flicker of guilt crossed his face. “We did, but the boutique just called. They’ve got an even more luxurious, custom-made gown. I want you to have the best.” His gaze burned with intensity, but I couldn’t tell if it was genuine or just another performance. Elliot, you always needed to understand. I never wanted luxury or extravagance. That simple sundress you bought me all those years ago meant more than any couture gown ever could. Still, I didn’t resist. I let him lead me to the boutique. The moment we walked in, the staff recognized him. They glanced at me briefly, then avoided my eyes, shifting nervously. I had a good idea of what that meant. Following Elliot’s instructions, the manager ushered me to the premium section to pick a gown. As we passed the storage area, I saw two employees moving a wedding dress into the back. It was the dress I had chosen. I smiled to myself but said nothing. Dress after dress, Elliot found none to his satisfaction. Finally, I stepped out in a pure white satin, strapless gown. Elliot, who had been sitting with his head down, looked up. He stared at me, speechless for a long time. I saw a whirlwind of emotions in his eyes—admiration, nostalgia, confusion, doubt, disdain, and irritation. Then, he frowned. “Who told you to bring her a plain white dress like this?” My heart sank. Did he see me as unworthy of the purity the dress symbolized? Or was he convinced that my efforts to support him during our most challenging years came at the cost of my dignity? “I told you! I want the most extravagant, sparkling, and ornate gown you have! Don’t try to pass off something so basic!” His contempt cut more profound than any glass shard could. Before the staff could bring another dress, I slipped into the dressing room and leaned against the wall. My chest felt tight, my eyes stung, but the tears wouldn’t fall. Through the curtain, I heard Elliot’s low voice on the phone. “Why are you calling me? You know I’m with her at the boutique.” “If you hadn’t swiped her dress with my black card, I wouldn’t have had to come back here!” “When I see her in plain white… I can’t help but think about what you said…” “Forget it. You’ll be there for me later. As long as she stays put at home, that’s enough.” When he dropped me off at home later, his words still echoed in my head, refusing to leave. Eventually, I snapped back to reality and found myself alone. I went to the closet and pulled out the white sundress Elliot gave me when I was 27. It still hung there. I folded it carefully and placed it in a large bag to donate. Next, I climbed up to the attic and cleared old boxes. Inside were piles of photos from our shared history. I pulled the albums out, tossing the photos into the fire until nothing was left but ashes. The empty albums and boxes went outside for pickup. Then, I found an old notebook at the bottom of a box. Its yellowed pages were filled with Elliot’s handwriting—his accounting ledger from the early days of his business. He had meticulously recorded every penny borrowed, repaid, earned, and spent. I remembered how he used to carry that notebook everywhere. It was like his lifeline. Now, it was buried among our forgotten memories. I brushed off crumbs and stains—remnants of long nights, cheap meals, and tears shed in frustration. Flipping through, I noticed a recurring entry: “2018: Owe Mr. Landon $20,000. Due within a year.” “2018: Owe Mr. Grant $10,000. Due within a year.” “2018: Year-end summary—Owe Sienna Raine one wedding. Lifetime repayment.” I froze, staring at the words. Every year, my name appeared in his notes. On the last page, in bold red ink, Elliot had written: “Elliot Starling, never forget to marry your girl.” “Remind yourself every year until you fulfill this promise.” I didn’t know what to feel. I could only laugh weakly, unsure if it was bitterness or resignation. Sliding the notebook into the hidden compartment of my suitcase, I zipped it shut and prepared for my last flight. A one-way ticket to Montclair. From there, I’d transfer to Greenport and start my new job at Atlantic Skies Airways. But I never expected to see Elliot Starling on that flight.
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