The first three hours of the flight had been nothing short of a dream—no, a fantasy—for Jessica.
Somewhere above the clouds, reality had melted away, and in its place bloomed a fleeting, intoxicating romance.
She and Mark had curled into each other like two young lovers caught in the flush of their first infatuation. They kissed endlessly, hands tangled in hair and whispered laughter echoing over the soft hum of the jet.
When Maggie, the flight attendant, discreetly interrupted to offer refreshments, they barely acknowledged her, too lost in feeding each other strawberries and stolen glances.
For a precious, shimmering moment, Jessica allowed herself to believe it. To believe in them. That they were more than broken vows and aching silences. That maybe—just maybe—they were still salvageable.
It felt like a honeymoon they never had, a beautiful lie wrapped in high-altitude air and champagne bubbles.
She had almost forgotten the loneliness. Forgotten the months of distance, the cold bed, the aching suspicion. Forgotten the late nights when Mark claimed to be working, the scent of a woman’s perfume clinging faintly to his shirt collars. Forgotten the reason she’d packed her bags and called her lawyer.
Almost.
But then came her.
The aircraft's speakers crackled, slicing through the sweet silence like a blade. “Ahem,” came the all-too-familiar voice. “Sorry to interrupt, boss, but we need to go over the schematics of the new resort plans for The Bahamas if we want to hit the ground running.”
Jessica froze.
No. It couldn’t be.
But it was.
Veronica.
Standing there like the ghost of every broken promise, every whispered lie. Clad in a bone-white power suit that hugged her frame like a second skin, six-inch red stilettos clicking against the floor, she looked every inch the woman Mark had betrayed her for.
Jessica’s stomach churned. Not with jealousy. With rage.
Not at Veronica. No, Veronica was just a symptom.
Her fury was directed inward—for letting herself believe. For getting swept up in three hours of fantasy and forgetting the cold, hard truth. For letting a few passionate kisses and sweet nothings convince her that Mark had changed.
Veronica’s presence on this flight wasn’t just a coincidence. It was a statement. One Jessica could no longer ignore.
The bubble had burst.
Untangling herself from Mark’s embrace, Jessica pulled away and watched him closely, waiting to see which version of him she’d get now—the devoted husband or the business-obsessed CEO.
Mark turned to Veronica without hesitation. “That’s okay, Veronica,” he said smoothly, not even glancing back at Jessica. “I don’t know what I’d do without you keeping me on track. Give me a few minutes. I’ll join you in the conference room shortly.”
Jessica didn’t miss the way Veronica’s lips curved into a smirk before she pivoted on her heels and strutted out of the cabin like she owned the air they breathed.
“Jess,” Mark said quickly, sensing the shift in her demeanor. “I need to finalize these plans. I’ve cleared my calendar for the next month to be with you in Guyana. But there are a few projects I had to bring with me.”
“No need to explain,” Jessica said, her voice cool, almost clinical. “You didn’t reach billionaire status by slacking off.”
“Great,” he replied, leaning in for a kiss.
But Jessica turned her head.
His lips landed on her cheek, not her mouth.
Her voice was quiet but firm. “No need to bother.”
Mark leaned back, confused. “What do you mean?”
“I’m just letting you know,” she said, lifting her chin, “that what happened earlier… it doesn’t change anything.”
His brows furrowed. “What doesn’t matter?”
“Us. The kissing. The reminiscing. The pretending.” She shrugged. “It was nice. But it was a fantasy. I still want a divorce. When we land in Guyana, you can go play CEO and build your resorts. And I’ll be busy rebuilding myself. As of now, I consider us separated.”
“Jessica, where is this coming from?” he asked, stunned. “I thought we were on the same page. That we were… trying again. What were the past three hours for you?”
Her eyes narrowed, her voice rising just enough to cut the air between them. “You don’t need to understand my motivation, Mark. You just need to accept my decision.”
She rose from her seat with quiet dignity, brushing past him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to use the washroom.”
Mark reached out, frustration creeping into his voice. “Jess, this conversation isn’t over. We’re going to talk more when we land.”
She paused in the aisle, casting one final look over her shoulder.
“If believing that will make you feel better,” she said with a bitter smile, “then go ahead.”
And with that, she walked away—leaving behind the man who couldn’t love her properly, and the fantasy that had nearly tricked her into staying.
Mark sat frozen, Jessica’s perfume still clinging to his skin like a ghost he couldn’t shake.
The warmth of her body—of them—had evaporated in seconds. All that was left was cold leather and the echo of the cabin door sliding shut.
What the hell just happened?
His jaw tightened as he replayed the moment. Her pulling away. Her turning her cheek. Her cool, cutting words.
And beneath it all—the hurt she tried so hard to hide.
He’d seen the way her eyes shuttered the second Veronica walked in. And he’d been too damn slow to stop the fallout.
Goddamn it, Veronica.
Mark stood abruptly, fury licking at his composure. The air in the cabin felt too tight, like it was pressing against his lungs.
He stormed toward the conference room.
Veronica was already seated at the table, tablet in hand, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
“You had no business interrupting,” Mark said, his voice low and sharp.
Veronica looked up, unfazed. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. This meeting could’ve waited. You deliberately inserted yourself at the wrong time.”
Veronica blinked, the pretense of professionalism slipping. “Mark, I was just doing my job. The Bahamas launch—”
“This wasn’t about the f*****g Bahamas and you know it.”
His voice cracked through the room like a whip, and for the first time, Veronica faltered.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove,” she said, standing. “But if you’re defending her again—”
“I’m not defending anyone. I’m warning you. Stay out of my marriage.”
She raised a brow. “What marriage?”
Mark’s fists clenched at his sides.
“You think I didn’t notice the perfume?” Jessica’s voice echoed back to him. “The late nights? The silences?”
Guilt twisted like a vice in his chest.
He hadn't cheated. Not physically. But he'd let lines blur—late dinners with Veronica, too many drinks at hotel bars, conversations that dipped one breath too deep into personal territory.
He hadn't touched her. But he hadn’t exactly honored his vows either.
And Jessica noticed.
Of course, she did. She always notices. That’s the problem, isn’t it? She sees too much.
Mark turned away from Veronica, his voice rough with frustration. “This meeting is postponed. We’ll revisit it when I say so.”
“You’re not thinking clearly,” she said behind him, her voice taking on that clipped, professional edge again. “We’re a week behind schedule—”
“I said, we’re done.”
Without waiting for a response, he left her there.
He didn’t return to the private cabin. He wasn’t ready to face Jessica yet.
Not when she looked at him like he was every disappointment she'd ever survived.
Instead, he walked into the quiet lounge area of the jet, ran a hand through his hair, and exhaled sharply.
She’s slipping away.
Three hours ago, he’d held her in his arms and tasted a future he didn’t think he believed in.
Now?
She was gone again.
Physically near, emotionally unreachable.
And the worst part?
He had no one to blame but himself.