My Divorce Began At The Airport

On the day of the company’s annual meeting, my husband, Holden, unexpectedly sent me on a business trip.

As my plane touched down, my phone buzzed with a call from his assistant, Nori. Before I could say anything, I overheard her ask, "Holden, did you send Maren away just so you could see me?"

In a voice oozing with affection, he replied, "What do you think, darling?"

"Then tonight, let's spice things up. I promise you won't be disappointed..." The call ended with a flirtatious laugh.

I swallowed the pain and repeatedly tried to call Holden. From being cut off to finding his phone switched off, he didn’t answer once. Resigned, I tucked my phone away, deciding from that moment on to stop caring about him.

Yet later, it was Holden who pleaded with me to give him another chance to be loved.

---

Standing at the blustery curb outside the airport, I dialed Holden Johnson over and over. I desperately hoped he would pick up and tell me it was all a misunderstanding, that the call had been just a silly game at the annual meeting.

But he didn’t. His earlier words lingered in my mind, "Maren, I'll wait for you to come back. Safe travels."

I tried convincing myself that the call was just a figment of my imagination. But the thought of Holden with another woman crowded my thoughts.

Unwilling to give up, I contacted one of the employees. I learned that Holden didn’t attend the team-building event, and neither did his assistant, Nori Spencer.

At that moment, my hopes were crushed by the brutal truth. Clutching my aching heart, I slowly crouched down.

My phone screen displayed Nori’s latest Instagram post.

"Personally tested and approved, and the boss is a star in every way."

The picture showed her draped in a towel, a dark butterfly tattoo peeking from her shoulder, her waist encircled by strong hands, kissing her neck. Though the man’s face was hidden, the posture and grip made it clear how much he enjoyed it.

The man had a dark rose tattoo on his lower left abdomen—the same tattoo Holden had secretly gotten six months ago. I recognized its unique design. When I found out, the scabs had already healed.

I had given him the silent treatment for a day over it. I was upset he didn’t value his body, worried about the health risks from the ink. But he lost his temper, telling me to mind my own business, then spent the night out at a bar.

I had to go find him, apologize in front of his friends, before he softened a little.

Back then, I thought he simply liked experimenting and even suggested we get matching tattoos. He just glared at me and said I was being ridiculous.

I naively took his words as concern for me. Now, I finally understood he was mocking me for being so self-deluded.

Indeed, I was deluded. But at least now, I realized it wasn’t too late.

I lost track of how long I sat in the cold.

It wasn’t until Holden's call came in that I noticed my hands were numb from the cold. The chill had seeped into my bones, making me shiver uncontrollably.

With fingers trembling, I stiffly answered his call.

Holden’s furious voice came through immediately, "Maren, how could you take so long to answer? Why did you ditch the client? Do you know breaching the contract costs money?"

His words were colder than the winter air, freezing me to the core.

Sarcastically, I shot back, "Just because I missed your call, you think you can talk to me like this?"

Perhaps it was the first time I spoke to him this way. There was a sudden silence on the other end. After a few seconds, he spoke again, his tone noticeably softer, "I’m sorry, I was just worried. But you really can’t bail on the client."