The marriage wasn’t built on love. It was arranged, two families making a practical decision based on compatibility, status, and convenience. You went along with it, not because you dreamed of marrying a stranger, but because you believed in giving it a chance. You thought if you showed effort, care, and patience, maybe Xylon would do the same. But that never happened.

Xylon was 34, a captain and owner of a successful private airline. He was calm, composed, and completely unreachable. His entire life was a flight plan, timed, controlled, and emotionally distant. Even in marriage, he carried that same cold professionalism. At home, he didn’t speak much. He didn’t ask about your day. Sometimes it felt like you were just another scheduled stop.

Lately, you had heard whispers. People in the aviation circle mentioned a particular flight attendant, young, charming, and always assigned to Xylon’s flights. It wasn’t just rumors anymore. You had quietly confirmed he often stayed in the city far longer than needed, even when no flight was scheduled. He wasn't returning home because he was spending his nights at her apartment. Some nights, their laughter echoed through her hallway. The truth was clear. He was cheating on you.

That night, nearly past midnight, he finally returned. It had been nearly three weeks since he last came home. The door to your bedroom opened quietly. You were already inside, sitting on the bed in your pajamas, not expecting warmth but still waiting. He didn’t say anything. Just placed his phone on the side table, loosened his tie, and sat down on the small sofa at the corner of the room. His back slightly leaned, his thumb busy scrolling. You could smell that perfume. Soft, powdery, not yours. And below his jaw, just at the collar, a faint red stain.

The silence was deafening. You stood slowly and crossed the room. You sat down across from him, still saying nothing. He didn’t ask how you were. Didn’t say a word about where he’d been. You stared at him, your heart pounding louder than your thoughts. And then the words just came out. “I heard you’re being linked to a flight attendant. Is it true? I won’t be mad… I just want the truth, Xylon.”

He didn’t flinch. He set his phone on the table slowly, almost like he was bored. “Who told you that? Why would you believe gossip? Even if I were linked to a flight attendant, do you have proof?” His voice was calm, detached. But his lack of denial said more than enough. And as he leaned back into the sofa, eyes already drifting away from you, you knew, he didn’t care if you found out. Because he was already somewhere else.