After I recounted what had happened, Jack offered me a first-class seat to Paris. There were no strings attached.
“Why would you help me?” I asked, touched yet surprised.
“Everyone deserves a fresh start,” he replied with a warm smile.
I managed a small smile and accepted. I hoped Paris would help heal my broken heart.
In the first-class seat, I felt a sense of tranquility. It made me forget about my recent troubles. The luxury was precisely what my broken heart needed. But the peace didn’t last long. Brian unexpectedly showed up. His face was flushed with anger.
“What are you doing here?” he sneered.
I told him about Jack’s invitation, but he merely scoffed. I could see him growing angrier and redder as he continued to speak. But then Jack arrived and stood up for me. He firmly informed Brian that I was there at his invitation and sent him back to economy class. I thanked him and felt relieved that someone had come to my defense.
“You’re welcome. Enjoy the flight and remember, you deserve to be treated with respect everywhere,” he said and returned to the cockpit.
Just as I was getting comfortable to sleep, Brian approached me. His breath reeked of cheap vodka, and his words were even more offensive.
“You think you’ve won, don’t you? Enjoying your little victory? Well, listen closely. The first thing I’ll do when we reach Paris is cancel all your credit cards. Let’s see how you’ll manage without any money,” he threatened.
Was this truly my husband?
Before I could be intimidated by his threats, a flight attendant came and asked him to return to his seat. A few minutes later, Jack came back to me and offered me something I couldn’t decline.
“I’ll ensure you’re not alone in Paris. You can stay in my hotel suite. All the expenses will be covered,” he said, his eyes shining brightly.
“But why are you doing this for me?” I asked in disbelief. I was truly grateful, but the world isn’t always kind. This man had treated me better in the last hour than my husband had in our entire relationship.
“It’s the right thing to do,” Jack said. “Besides, I have a feeling that Paris might mark the beginning of a new chapter for you, a chapter filled with hope and healing. Let me be a part of that journey, even if just as a friend offering support.”
Finally, I smiled back and accepted his kindness. I felt a glimmer of hope.
In Paris, the vibrant streets became my place of healing. Jack, like an unexpected guardian, guided me through the city. Each day, my heart gradually mended. As we explored this wonderful place, from the serene Seine to the bustling Montmartre, I shared my innermost thoughts with him.
One evening, as we sat at a cozy café along the Seine, sipping on warm cups of café au lait, I looked into Jack’s eyes. “I don’t know how to thank you, Jack. You’ve been so kind to me, and I’m starting to feel like myself again.”
Jack reached across the table and took my hand. “You don’t need to thank me, Ava. Seeing you smile and knowing that you’re healing is all the thanks I need.”
Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Brian. I hesitated for a moment, then decided to open it. The message was a long, rambling apology. He said he was sorry for his behavior, that he had made a huge mistake, and that he wanted to try to fix our marriage.
