Part 2When the Plane Crossed the Starlit Sky

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.