Three Years and Eighteen Goodbyes

For three years, we held a wedding in name only—my husband, Kit Rutgers, a pilot, canceled our marriage registration eighteen times. The first time, his female trainee, Katy Ferguson, had a test flight. I waited outside the county clerk’s office the whole day. The second time, he got a call from her mid-drive, made a sharp U-turn, and left me standing on the side of the road. After that, every time we planned to make it official, some crisis with Katy mysteriously arose. Eventually, I chose to walk away. But the moment I boarded a plane to Solara, he lost his mind—and chased me there. Chapter 1 We had been married for three years, but Kit Rutgers still hadn’t made it official with me. Today marked his one-thousandth successful flight—a major milestone—and the seventeenth time he had promised to go with me to register our marriage. But during the celebration banquet, while his commanding officer pressured me into drinking, Kit sat across the table, feeding and clinking glasses with his female trainee, Katy Ferguson. Meanwhile, I fought through a high fever, drinking until I nearly blacked out, and he didn’t even spare me a glance. Many of our colleagues sighed and shook their heads, their eyes full of pity and disapproval. Anyone with any sense could tell who I was forcing myself to drink for. And yet, after the banquet, when he was supposed to take me to the county clerk’s office, Kit broke his promise yet again. He pulled the car up to the restaurant entrance and stretched an arm across the passenger seat to stop me from getting in. “Katy’s had too much to drink, so I’ll take her home. You take a cab,” he said. “As for the registration this afternoon… we probably won’t make it. Let’s talk about it another day.” Without waiting for a response, he jumped out of the car and carried Katy into the front seat. Five years of dating, three years of marriage—and this marked the seventeenth time Kit had postponed our marriage registration because of Katy. At times like this in the past, I would have already broken down, crying and yelling, demanding to know: who was really his wife? And who had just taken the drinks for him? But this time, I simply smiled and said, “Alright. Take care and drive safely.” He seemed surprised by how composed I was, but only for a moment. Then he regained his cold demeanor and said, “I’ll bring you a gift tonight to make up for it.” With that, he drove off. Before leaving, he even leaned over to roll up the window for Katy, worried about how the cold breeze might affect her while in her drunken state. He used to hate the smell of alcohol in his car, so every time I had a drink on his behalf, even in winter, he would keep the convertible roof wide open. Looking back now, I realized it was only because the one in the car had been me. The midday heat in Silverport was enough to soak your clothes in sweat, but my heart felt strangely frozen. I took a deep breath and slipped the marriage registry forms back into my bag. I knew it was time to let go, not just of today, but of all eight years we had spent together. Chapter 2 That afternoon, I returned to the office and handed in my resignation letter. “Does Kit know you’re quitting?” my supervisor, Holly Thatcher, asked in surprise. After all, I had been the airline’s top flight attendant for seven consecutive years—a shining star with a bright future ahead. I gave her a faint, bitter smile. “I’ll tell him tonight, though I doubt he’ll care.” She sighed. “You two started flying new routes together and won all those company awards. Even the CEO attended your wedding three years ago. Everyone was so envious… but—” She trailed off with a heavy sigh, her voice thick with regret. Yes, those were beautiful memories. And that’s all they would remain, things you couldn’t return to, no matter how much you wanted to. By the time I got home, it was already past ten. The apartment was eerily quiet. Then my phone lit up with a notification from Katy’s latest social media post in which she had tagged me in. [Thank you to my teacher, Mr. Rutgers, for staying with me all afternoon! As a reward, I’m taking him to Bruno Mars’ concert tomorrow! Can’t wait!] I knew then—Kit, who had said at lunch he would come home, wasn’t coming back. It wasn’t the first time this had happened in the three years since we married. I made myself a simple bowl of instant noodles and opened my inbox. Staring at over a dozen offers from international airlines, my cursor hovered over the email from Air Montclaire. I clicked “Accept” and booked a flight the day after tomorrow to Solara without a second thought. Five years ago, during a mission to Solara, Kit experienced the most traumatic incident of his flying career. From that moment on, the city became a forbidden word. Not only did he stop flying there, but he never let me fly there either. “Once I set foot in Solara, we’ll never meet again, Kit,” I thought to myself. Chapter 3 The next morning, I woke up and immediately began packing my suitcase. I was only halfway through when Kit walked through the door, wearing a pale pink dress shirt. Trailing behind him was a strong wave of rose perfume. The scent hit me hard, and I froze for a moment. He used to hate the smell of perfume. For that reason, all these years together, I never wore any. I had even thrown out my entire collection, including bottles I had cherished for years. But now I understood—he didn’t hate perfume. He just didn’t like it on me. He paused briefly when he saw me packing, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “Katy sobered up very late last night,” he said. “I booked a hotel room alone and stayed there—that’s why I didn’t come home.” I glanced up at him in surprise. It was the first time in our three years of marriage that he had ever offered an explanation for his absence. I nodded, saying nothing. He slowly stepped closer, looking down as he asked, “Are you packing for a flight assignment?” I nodded again. “Something like that.” At my answer, he seemed, for reasons I couldn’t quite name, to exhale in relief. Then he added, “I’ve got a few things to take care of today. Just stopped by to grab something. I won’t stay for lunch.” “Alright.” I didn’t look up and kept packing my suitcase. I had planned to tell him over lunch that I’d quit my job, to finally draw a full stop on our eight-year relationship. But that was not going to happen now. Kit grabbed a red paper bag, picked up the jacket hanging by the door, and rushed out. Just then, the picture frame that had hung by the doorway for eight years suddenly fell to the floor. Glass shattered across the tiles. I glanced over. It was a photo of us at our first concert together. Our hands were clasped together, grinning like we had no care in the world. That night, he had promised me that no matter how busy life got, he’d take me to a concert every year. But once Katy became his student, he forgot all the promises he had made to me. The clock ticked steadily in the empty room. I sat still for a long while before quietly sweeping up the broken glass. Then, I tossed the photo, along with whatever affection that still lingered in my heart, into the trash. Chapter 4 By evening, I had finished packing and collapsed onto the bed, drained and exhausted. Just then, my best friend called. “What the hell is going on with Kit? He’s completely out of line. Have you seen his social media? “He’s flaunting his relationship with that vixen Katy like it’s some fairytale romance. “You two aren’t even divorced—how can he do this?” As she ranted, I casually scrolled through Instagram. Right at the top of my feed was a new post from Katy. In the photo, she wore a Van Cleef & Arpels clover necklace around her neck and held the same red gift bag Kit had picked up from home earlier. That’s when it hit me. He had returned at noon just to grab her present. Below the image was a caption that made my stomach turn: [Three years of knowing you, and I’m so lucky to have you, Kit. Happy third anniversary!] Then it dawned on me. Anniversary? That’s right. Today was supposed to be our third wedding anniversary. But we had never once celebrated it. Not even enough for me to remember it. I let out a long breath and finally replied to my friend. “He doesn’t need to file for a divorce. We never got our marriage license.” “What? You’ve been married three years, and Kit never made it official?” Her shock nearly blew out my eardrum through the speaker. Yes. The wedding was three years ago, and he had called off registering our marriage seventeen times. Chapter 5 At 11 p.m., Kit did something rare—he came home. As he stepped inside and removed his jacket, he reached to hang it behind the door. Then he noticed the spot where our photo had once hung, and he froze. “Our photo behind the door—is it gone?” He didn’t even set down his coat before hurrying into the bedroom, a hint of panic in his voice. “It fell and shattered,” I replied. His eyes shifted toward the trash bin near the door, where shards of glass glinted under the light. His shoulders relaxed slightly. Then, placing his coat aside, he pulled out a shopping bag containing a Louis Vuitton purse. “I didn’t get a chance to give you your gift yesterday,” he said. “I got this for you. Happy anniversary.” He set the bag on the bed. For a moment, I wondered if I had misheard him. Three years of marriage, and he finally remembered our anniversary? But then I glanced at the receipt—the purchase had been made just thirty minutes ago. Then it hit me. Katy’s anniversary post must have reminded him, prompting this last-minute gesture. He didn’t realize I already owned two purses of the same design. I said nothing and looked at him steadily. “Oh, and with the year-end approaching,” he continued, “the airline’s annual awards are coming up. “Katy’s been in the industry for three years now, and her biggest wish is to win Best Flight Attendant, like you have for several years. “Would you consider stepping aside to give her a chance?” His tone was hesitant, almost pleading. I smiled bitterly. So, this spontaneous gift came with strings attached. “Sure,” I replied calmly. Not just this year. Next year, the year after, and every year after that—I wouldn’t compete with her for the airline’s top honor again because after tonight, I was leaving. “You… you agree to do it?” He had not expected me to say yes so easily. Kit kept glancing at me from the corner of his eye, uncertain, searching. Then, unable to resist, he spoke again. “Katy is my student. You’re her mentor’s wife—that’s how it should be, right?” He paused, then added as if suddenly struck by inspiration, “Oh, right. I’m not flying tomorrow. Let’s go to the county clerk’s office and finally register our marriage.” I didn’t say anything. He seemed to recall, belatedly, that I had been packing earlier. His tone softened. “I almost forgot. You’re flying again tomorrow, aren’t you? What time’s your flight?” “Three in the afternoon,” I said, watching him. I was ready to tell him tonight, this final night together, that I was leaving. But before I could speak, his phone rang. It was Katy. Her sugary voice drifted through the speaker. She had just gotten her period and didn’t have any pads. She needed Kit’s help. When he hung up, he looked at me sheepishly. “Uh… Katy’s in a bit of a situation. She’s not great with these things. I should probably go help her.” He almost sounded like he was asking for permission. I swallowed the words I had been about to say, forced a smile, and nodded. “It’s okay. Go.” Relief washed over him. He got up immediately. Before leaving, he turned back once more. “Your flight’s at three, so we’ll have time. Let’s meet at the county clerk’s office at ten tomorrow morning. “I promise—no matter what happens this time, I’ll be there.” I let out a bitter laugh. In the end, he still hadn’t given me the chance to break things off face-to-face. The next morning, I packed my luggage and skipped the trip to the county clerk’s office entirely. I headed straight to the airport. By noon, Kit still hadn’t called to ask why I hadn’t shown up to our appointment. It wasn’t until I stood at the gate, moments away from boarding, that his message finally came through: [Sorry, Katy wasn’t feeling well today, so I took her to the hospital. [We missed our registration appointment again. Once you're back from this flight, I’ll go with you to get it done.] I stared at the screen, my heart completely still. So this was it, the 18th time he failed to show. [Don’t bother, Kit. I’ve already given up. [I’m flying to Solara. After today, we won’t see each other again.] I sent the message, then reached for the power button to shut off my phone. Before I could press it, the long-silent chat window exploded, buzzing wildly with incoming messages.