In First Class, My Husband’s Lover Flaunted Her Wedding Ring at Me

To surprise my husband who was "working overtime," I bought a last-minute plane ticket.

Because of the short notice, only first class was available.

I stared at the payment screen on my phone and maxed out my credit card with a grimace.

But after I sat down, I couldn't even figure out how to work the power seat adjustment buttons.

A scoff came from the seat next to me.

I turned my head. It was a girl in her early twenties, looking at me like I was something dirty.

"First time in first class?" Her voice was sickeningly sweet, not bothering to hide the contempt underneath.

My face felt hot. "Sorry." I forced a smile. "You seem... very comfortable in this kind of setting."

She swirled the champagne glass in her hand. "My boyfriend's an investor. He says if I suffer even the slightest inconvenience when I travel, it breaks his heart. If this flight had private jet service, he'd never make me squeeze onto commercial."

My heart skipped a beat for no reason. "An investor? That's... impressive."

"It's alright." She leaned in closer, her expensive perfume washing over me. "Actually, I'm an intern at his company. Clumsy, always screwing things up. Every time he scolds me, I can't help but cry... and then one thing leads to another on his office couch. You know how it is."

My stomach suddenly churned.

"What a coincidence." My voice sounded dry even to my own ears. "My husband's company has an intern too. Always making mistakes."

"You're married?"

Savannah raised an eyebrow, looking me up and down like she was appraising a piece of last season's clearance merchandise.

"My boyfriend has a wife too. About your age."

I clutched the blanket on my lap.

"He says that woman is boring as hell, dresses like a fifty-year-old librarian, doesn't even excite him to touch her."

Savannah took a sip of her drink, all smiles. "Not like me—I just flip my hair and he can't handle it. I told him I wanted to spend Christmas with him. You know what he did? Turned around and told his wife he had to stay in San Francisco for overtime work on financing. So busy, apparently."

My head started buzzing.

Liam's face, that photo he sent of himself eating takeout at a shabby desk, with the caption "Fighting for our future"...

Wasn't he running a startup? Since when was he a programmer turned investor?

...

"But you know," Savannah held out her left hand, a ring on her middle finger catching the cabin light, "that wife isn't completely useless. At least she has decent taste."

My breathing stopped.

That ring. A delicate platinum band, set with a modest square-cut diamond, tiny scratches on the side—

It was my wedding ring that I thought I'd lost during last year's move.

"That ring..." My throat tightened. "It's special. Is it a wedding ring? Your boyfriend... gave you a wedding ring?"

"This?" Savannah turned her finger under the light, examining it carefully, like she was admiring a trophy. "Oh, he didn't buy this. He took it from his wife's jewelry box for me."

Blood seemed to rush to my head all at once, then drain away completely. The air conditioning in the cabin made my skin feel cold.

"Originally, I had nothing against that lady." Savannah pursed her lips, her tone casual. "But why did she have to have her emergency on my birthday last year? Her sister got sick, needed money, and one phone call pulled him away. Left me crying alone at my birthday party with my cake. Talk about a mood killer."

My sister Emma's face flashed before my eyes.

Last winter, she was diagnosed with a rare blood disorder. The astronomical cost of the specialty medication was like a bottomless pit.

Liam held me, crying like a child, saying he'd drained all the company's liquid assets and could only scrape together half.

In the end, Emma used an alternative treatment. Her life was saved, but she was left with permanent nerve damage and could never paint like before.

That day, I sat in a plastic chair in the hospital corridor all night.

When I got home, I discovered my wedding ring—worn for four years—was gone. I searched everywhere like a madwoman.

Liam, eyes red, comforted me: "Stop looking, Emilia. It's my fault. I couldn't save Emma's health, and I couldn't keep your ring safe either. Once the company gets through this round, I'll buy you a bigger one, the best one."

At the time, I thought through my tears that the ring didn't matter as long as we still had each other.

Beside me, Savannah was still admiring that ring, the diamond's light piercing my eyes.

"So," I heard myself say, using every ounce of strength to keep my voice steady, "he took his wife's wedding ring and gave it to you?"

"Yeah." Savannah laughed, showing a perfect eight teeth. "He wasn't happy about it at first, said he'd buy me a Cartier. But..."

She turned to me, her eyes gleaming with a kind of malicious, excited light.

"Why should that hag get to wear a wedding ring? Just because she's his legal wife? I had to make her understand who's really the one being loved. Taking away her most important thing—a little lesson, you know."

My nails dug deep into my palms.

"Honestly, compared to the other things he's given me, this ring isn't worth much money." Savannah shrugged. "But the meaning is different, right? This is a wedding ring."

She looked at me, her tone sickly sweet: "If you ask me, living like that lady must be pretty pathetic. That's all her life will ever amount to."

I released my white-knuckled grip and pulled at the corner of my mouth. "Your boyfriend is so generous to you. His wife must get quite the hush money, right? Otherwise things would get ugly if she made a scene."

Savannah looked like she'd heard the funniest joke. She leaned in, bringing the sweet scent of champagne, lowering her voice to whisper in my ear:

"Let me tell you a secret. That lady still thinks her husband is some poor guy struggling at a startup, barely able to make payroll."