Part 3When the Plane Crossed the Starlit Sky

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.