Crashed, Cheated, Caught

Nora's POV

Three years after my pilot husband "died" in a plane crash, I walk in on him cutting a birthday cake for his three-year-old son backstage at the company memorial gala.

Luke freezes in the lounge, his hand still on the knife, staring at me.

His parents rush over to shield him. The same couple who screamed at me in the funeral home, wishing I'd died instead of him.

"Nora, just calm down. There's an explanation..."

Claire covers her slightly rounded belly, tears streaming down her face. "I'm so sorry, Nora. My baby needs his father. Please, I'm begging you. I couldn't help myself—I love him."

I thought I'd break down. Thought I'd scream.

But all that guilt, all that self-blame, three years of missing him burns away the second I see the truth.

Nothing's left.

Today marks three years since Luke "died."

I stand in the corner of Northern Aviation's annual gala in black. The VP drones on about our "hero captain" while photos of Luke in the cockpit flash across the screen behind him.

People keep looking at me with pity.

"Poor Nora. Three years and she still hasn't moved on."

"I heard she was the best air traffic controller we had. After what happened to Luke, she shakes every time the radar alarm goes off. They had to move her to records."

I take a sip of champagne and push down the nausea rising in my throat.

Right. Because I'm the "hero's widow," I traded away my career, my health. Almost traded away my life.

"Nora, why don't you go rest in the lounge? You look awful." A coworker grabs my arm.

I nod and slip away from the crowd, heading down the hall.

There's light coming from a door at the end, slightly ajar. It feels wrong somehow, too bright compared to the somber event outside. I hear a child's voice, then the happy birthday song.

"Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday, dear Ethan..."

That voice. Deep and achingly familiar.

I stop walking.

I know this voice. Lived with it for seven years. Mourned it for three. I'd recognize it anywhere.

Luke.

But Luke's plane went down in the Pacific three years ago during extreme weather. Everyone died. They never even found the bodies.

I must be losing it. The doctor said my PTSD would come with auditory hallucinations.

My hand shakes as I reach for the door, then I pull back. If it's a hallucination, the room will be empty. If it's real...

"Daddy! Can I have the airplane?" A little boy's voice cuts through clearly.

"Alright, bud. Daddy's gonna cut it for you." The man sounds tender. "You're gonna be a pilot someday, just like me."

"Luke, keep your voice down. Someone might hear." A woman's voice, playful but nervous.

Claire.

Luke's so-called childhood friend. The head flight attendant on that flight. Her name was on the missing persons list too.

All my fear vanishes. Everything goes cold and clear.

I push the door open.

There's a round table in the center with a three-tier cake.

Claire wears a red dress, tucked against the man's side. He's in casual clothes, holding the hand of a three-year-old boy, about to cut the cake.

At the sound of the door, all three turn around.

Time stops.

Luke's hand is still on the kid's shoulder, that face I've cried over in my sleep every night frozen as he looks at me. The smile hasn't fully left his eyes when they meet mine.

It's really him. He's not dead. He's fine. Better than fine. He looks healthy, happy, with a wife and kid at his side.

"Nora..." His voice cracks.

Claire shrinks behind Luke. The boy starts crying. "Daddy, I'm scared!"

That one word, "Daddy," hits me like a slap.

I thought I'd lose it. Thought I'd scream, tear them apart with my bare hands.

But I feel nothing. If anything, I want to laugh.

So this is what I get for three years of crying. Three suicide attempts. Countless bottles of antidepressants.

My husband didn't die in a plane crash.

He's just dead to me now. He chose this—the cheating, the betrayal, the perfectly planned disappearing act.

I stand in the doorway, watching this happy little family, and a smile pulls at my lips.

"You look pretty lively for a dead man, Captain."

Luke goes pale. He takes a step forward. "Nora—wait, just—let me explain, okay? This isn't—"

"Don't move." My voice is ice. "Move and I'm calling everyone in here to see how our beloved fallen hero got married and had a kid in heaven."