Three Years and Eighteen Goodbyes

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

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 fli

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

After leaving the flight crew center, Kit sat motionless in the airport for three hours.As he looked around every corner of the terminal, memories surged through his mind, uninvited and relentless.We first met at the security checkpoint eight years ago.It was my first time transitioning from a ground position to a flight crew role. I was so excited and hadn’t slept the night before, so by morning, I was visibly out of sorts. I even dropped my work ID while going through security.Kit was the one who picked it up for me, sparing me from making a critical mistake on my first day.That brief encounter was when we learned each other’s names.After that, he often asked me to grab a late-night meal at the airport after our flights.Once. Then again. And again.From acquaintances, we slowly became something more.Over time, we explored every corner of this airport together.Even more fortunately, we were later assigned to the same route—something every aviation couple dreams

[What? You want to fly the Solara route? Did I read that right? [Weren’t you the one who swore you’d never fly to Solara again? I even went to headquarters to make a special request on your behalf and got chewed out for it.]Less than a minute after Kit sent the message, his phone rang. Billy Lipton’s voice on the other end brimmed with shock and disbelief.Five years ago, after an incident during a Solara flight, Kit had formally requested never to be assigned that route again. He told headquarters that if they denied his request, he would resign on the spot. Everyone at the airline who had been around back then knew the story.Now, out of nowhere, he had voluntarily asked to be reassigned to Solara. Naturally, people were stunned.“I mean it, Billy. Please help me submit the application to HQ again—as soon as possible,” Kit replied, his voice steady and firm.“What’s going on?” Billy asked, concern creeping into his tone.“Let me ask you something, Billy,” Kit paused. “