At the airport I almost dropped my suitcase when I saw my husband's arm wrapped around the waist of a younger woman. But instead of screaming, I smiled and said: “What a surprise… big brother, aren't you going to introduce us?” Her face went deathly pale. My husband froze completely, as if the ground had been pulled out from under his feet. In that second I understood that their secret was far worse than an ordinary affair – and I was about to tear it to shreds.
I almost dropped my suitcase right there, in Terminal B.
The wheels of my carry-on caught on a crack in the tiles and jerked my hand, but that's not what made my heart stop in my chest. It was the sight ten feet ahead of me – my husband, Ethan, standing by the departures board with his arm draped around the waist of a young blonde, as if that were exactly where it belonged. As if she belonged to him.
For a moment everything blurred. The announcements over the speakers, a child crying somewhere behind me, the line at the coffee stand – none of it seemed real anymore. I could only focus on Ethan's hand resting with obvious familiarity on her hip and on the way she nestled into him, as if it weren't the first time. As if such gestures were something ordinary between them, familiar and repeated so many times that they no longer required even a shadow of hesitation.
I should have started screaming. I should have thrown my bag at him, caused a scene, and let the whole terminal witness his disgrace. Instead, something far colder took control of me. Something that had nothing to do with impulse and everything to do with the instinct to survive.
I walked straight toward them, with a smile so calm that even I could feel how unnatural it was.
When Ethan looked up and saw me, all the blood drained from his face. The girl turned too, blinked her wide-open blue eyes, confused for a split second, until I stood right in front of them and said sweetly:
“What a surprise… big brother, aren't you going to introduce us?”
Her face went white instantly.
Ethan's hand shot away from her waist so fast it looked almost grotesque.
“Claire,” he said in a strained voice. “What are you doing here?”
I tilted my head slightly.
“I'm flying to Chicago. Apparently, so are you. Although I didn't know it was a family trip.”
The young woman took an unsteady step back.
“Wait a moment,” she whispered, looking from him to me. “You said that…”
