My husband boarded a flight to Cancun with his mistress… never imagining that the wife he looked down on would be ser.ving him re.venge in first class.
The aircraft climbed above the clouds.
For nearly twenty minutes, neither Ryan nor Ashley spoke.
First class suddenly felt less like luxury and more like a prison.
When beverage service began, I pushed my cart through the aisle.
I served an elderly couple celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary.
Then a college student heading to a graduation trip.
Finally, I stopped beside seats 2A and 2B.
“Can I get either of you something to drink?”
Ryan refused to look at me.
“Sparkling water.”
“Of course.”
I poured it over ice.
Added a slice of lime.
Served it with perfect courtesy.
Then I turned to Ashley.
“And for you, ma’am?”
She sat up straighter.
“White wine.”
“My pleasure.”
I handed her the glass without spilling a single drop.
