CHAPTER 127: STRANDED

Alexia – POV

As I stepped out of the bathroom, the soft, professional voice of the flight attendant echoed through the cabin speakers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be landing shortly. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts."

I stood there for a moment, frozen in place, staring down the long aisle of the private jet. My fingers curled around the edge of the doorframe as uncertainty crawled its way back into my chest. My eyes flicked toward Aiden.

He was seated where I had left him, but now he sat stiffly, shoulders tense, gaze fixed on the clouds beyond the window as though he could will himself into another universe.

I shouldn’t go over there.

I shouldn’t.

He remembered. I saw it in his eyes before I locked myself away in the bathroom—rage, betrayal, disbelief. He knew who I was. Who I had been. The monster I used to be.

But I couldn’t sit across the cabin like a coward.

I couldn’t keep running from this. Not anymore.

I debated it—every step, every breath. My feet felt like they were walking me into the gallows, not toward a seat. But still, I moved. Slowly. Carefully. Praying that maybe—maybe—he would allow me this small thing. A shared seat. A shred of dignity.

I lowered myself beside him.

Silence.

I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t.

But the second my body touched the cushion beside his, I felt it—him. Aiden stood abruptly, not even waiting for the plane to settle. His boots hit the floor with a heavy thud. No words. No glance.

He just... left.

Walked across the cabin and dropped into the seat farthest from me.

Like I was poison.

Like sitting next to me would infect him with whatever rot still lived inside me.

I stared at the empty space he’d left behind, the seat now cold and too wide, my heart cracking in a slow, agonizing ache.

Of course he moved.

Of course he couldn’t bear to be near me.

He remembered now.

And now... I would never be able to forget either.

Then the turbulence started.

It began as a faint jolt beneath my feet, the kind that could be easily dismissed if you weren’t already drowning in emotion. But the tremble grew stronger, rocking the jet with a sudden lurch that pulled a gasp from my throat.

My knuckles turned white around the armrests as I instinctively looked toward him—toward the seat across the cabin. But Aiden didn’t look back. He sat motionless, hands clasped in his lap, his face turned resolutely toward the window like I wasn’t even there. Like I didn’t exist.

A fresh wave of panic surged through me.

This was the part of flying I always hated—the descent. The moment when the sky felt like it was chewing on metal wings, rattling us from the clouds and into gravity’s grip. My stomach twisted with every dip, my mind screaming as I clung to the seat like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth.

He used to calm me.

Every time before, he’d reach over without a word, take my trembling hand into his, and anchor me with just a look. His touch, warm and grounding. His voice, low and steady, whispering into my hair that everything would be okay.

But this time—there was no hand. No whisper. No safety.

Just empty space and cold silence.

I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing hard through my nose, trying not to cry or scream or shatter into a thousand pieces. Instead, I let my mind flee—to him. To the memory of his body against mine. To the night I had finally allowed myself to give in, fully, to what we were becoming.

I remembered his eyes that night—how they’d softened with something unspoken as he looked down at me, like I wasn’t his contract wife but something real. Something treasured. His mouth had moved with reverence across my skin, and I’d felt worshipped. Desired. Loved.

His hands had roamed like he’d memorized me long ago, and now only wanted to relearn what he already owned.

I had given him all of me, trembling but open.

And when he finally took me, it hadn’t felt like a transaction or a performance—it had felt like surrender. Like a meeting of broken souls finding one perfect moment of peace.

That memory clung to me now like a ghost, warming my skin even as the cabin pitched again and the plane dipped through another violent pocket of air.

I swallowed back a cry and clung tighter.

He wasn’t here.

Not anymore.

Not really.

But in that moment, I held onto the version of him that had been. The man who made love to me like I mattered. Who kissed me like I was more than a mistake reborn. Who looked at me like I was worth saving—before he remembered I was the one who broke him.

Tears welled behind my lashes, but I kept them shut tight, not daring to let them fall. Not daring to let the Aiden—see me shatter.

I wasn’t just afraid of the plane crashing anymore.

I was afraid I already had.

The moment we landed, he was gone.

Before the wheels even fully kissed the tarmac, Aiden had unbuckled his seatbelt with mechanical precision and was on his feet, avoiding my eyes like I was nothing more than a smudge on glass—something to be wiped away. I scrambled after him, fumbling with the buckle, practically tripping over my own feet in my haste, hoping—desperate—for a glance, a word, anything.

But he was fast. Too fast.

By the time I stepped onto the tarmac, hair whipping in the breeze, he was already sliding into the black car waiting for us. He didn’t pause. Didn’t glance over his shoulder. Didn’t even acknowledge I existed.

The car door slammed shut with a heavy thud—final, unforgiving.

I picked up my pace, heart in my throat. "Aiden!" I called, breath catching.

But the engine growled to life. And before I could reach for the handle, the car rolled forward... and drove off.

Gone.

"What the actual fuck?" I breathed, stunned, my voice lost to the roar of the engines cooling behind me.

I stood there, frozen like an idiot at the edge of the runway, watching the black car disappear into the horizon like a bad joke. My fingers twitched at my sides, a bitter cocktail of humiliation, heartbreak, and growing panic boiling in my gut.

He left me.

No. He ditched me. Like I was some stranger. Not his wife. Not the woman who had curled against him just nights ago with his name on her lips and his body tangled in hers.

I reached into my pocket, pulling out my phone—because maybe, just maybe, I could call Lucy or anyone—but of course.

Black screen. Dead battery.

"Fucking shit," I hissed, staring at the blank rectangle in my hand like it had betrayed me. I’d forgotten to charge it last night. Stupid me. Too busy overthinking, too busy being a mess.

I exhaled sharply, the kind of laugh that wasn’t a laugh at all, just a shaky exhale wrapped in disbelief.

Was I even allowed back to his place now?

Technically, I was his wife—but let’s be real. That probably wouldn’t hold much weight now. Not after he remembered. Not after the way he looked at me on the jet. That look was a bullet straight through my heart.

Divorce papers. I could already see them, printed on crisp white paper, my name next to his, ready to end this farce of a marriage. That’s probably the only welcome I’d get if I dared to show up at his villa.

Yeah. Guess that’s it.

Bye-bye good life.

Hello, poverty. Hello, waitressing.

Back to greasy aprons and shitty tips. Back to rationing one meal a day, back to praying rent wouldn’t swallow me whole. Back to being invisible and miserable.

And yet, somehow, the thought of returning to that life—as awful as it was—wasn’t nearly as painful as what I was feeling right now.

Because this pain wasn’t hunger or cold or exhaustion.

This was heartbreak. Deep, raw, soul-cracking heartbreak.

Why did I have to love him?

Of all the cruel twists fate could hand me, falling for the man I once tormented in another life had to be the sickest.

And the worst part?

He’ll never forgive me.

Honestly? I don’t think I can forgive me.

I glanced around the small airstrip, no staff in sight, no idea where I even was. Just concrete, wind, and my own shattered pride. I sighed and tightened my arms around myself, teeth sinking into my lower lip to stop the tremble.

No ride. No money. No phone. No Aiden.

Just me.

Guess I’m walking.

I took the first step down the stretch of road, each footfall heavier than the last.

Welcome back to reality, Alexia. I fucking knew the trip was too good to be true.