I Caught My Husband with His Affair Partner at the Airport and Decided to Follow Them to Paris — Story of the Day

My world was shattered in an airport terminal when I discovered my husband with another woman. But a chance encounter with a handsome and charming airline pilot led me on a whirlwind romance to Paris. And yet, my heart wasn’t sure if something like that could last.

Brian and I were at a crossroads in our marriage, though I hadn’t fully realized it. But I was still hopeful for us, so clutching my ticket to Paris, I navigated the crowded local international airport, trying to stifle the nerves churning within me.

I planned to surprise Brian on his business trip to France, so we could reignite our romance in the city of love. However, I saw his silhouette at the airport and quickly realized he had a young woman on his arm, and they were intimately linked.

My heart sank as I realized his deceit. “Brian!” I exclaimed, shocked.

He turned, his face cycling from surprise to detachment. He let go of the strange woman and walked over to me. “Ava, why are you here?” he asked, frowning.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

“I wanted to surprise you, to spend time together in Paris,” I said, my voice trembling as my romantic fantasy shattered.

Brian pulled me farther away from the others with his pursed lips in annoyance. “This isn’t a good time, Ava. It’s a business trip,” he dismissed, snatching and tearing up my ticket. “And before you get any ideas, she’s just a colleague. Go home.”

Tears welled in my eyes. “I thought we were trying to fix things,” I murmured, heartbroken.

“This was a mistake. Leave,” Brian said coldly, walking away, grabbing the woman’s hand, and leaving me crushed. I sank to the floor, sobbing heavily as I leaned on my suitcase. That’s where Jack found me.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone imbued with genuine concern. I looked up into the kindest eyes I had ever seen and noticed his pilot uniform, which made him so handsome.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

After telling him what I had gone through, Jack offered me a first-class seat to Paris, no strings attached.

“Why would you help me?” I asked, touched but shocked.

“Everyone deserves a fresh start,” he replied, smiling warmly.

Grinning back slightly, I accepted, hoping Paris might help mend my shattered heart.

***

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

In the comfort of my first-class seat, I felt a sense of peace, which distanced me from my recent situation. The luxury was perfect for my shattered heart. Yet, the tranquility was short-lived because my Brian appeared out of seemingly nowhere, his face contorted with indignation.

“What are you doing here?” he sneered.

I mentioned Jack’s invitation, only to be met with Brian’s scorn. I saw my husband get angrier and more red-faced as he kept talking, but Jack appeared out of nowhere and intervened, his authority undisputed.

He firmly told Brian, “She’s here at my invitation,” and directed him back to economy class. I thanked him, relieved that someone had stood up for me.

“You’re welcome. Enjoy the flight, and remember, you deserve to be treated with respect, here and everywhere else,” he said, smiling as usual, and retired back to the cockpit.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

Just as I was settling back against my seat, ready to sleep the entire flight, Brian showed up in my face. His breath smelled of cheap vodka, but his words were even more surprising.

“You think you’ve won, don’t you? Enjoying your little victory lap up here? Well, listen closely. The first thing I’ll do when we land in Paris is cut off all your credit cards. Let’s see how far you get without a penny to your name,” he threatened.

Was this truly my husband?

Before I could succumb to the fear his threats inspired, a hostess interrupted and asked him to return to his seat. A few minutes later, Jack was back at my side, and he proposed something I couldn’t refuse.

“I’ll ensure you’re not alone in Paris. You can stay in my hotel suite, all expenses covered,” he offered with his bright, beautiful eyes.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

“But why would you do this for me?” I asked in disbelief. Of course, I was grateful, but the world wasn’t kind, and this man had treated me better in the last hour than my husband had during our entire relationship.

“It’s the right thing to do,” Jack replied. “Besides, I have a feeling that Paris might just be the beginning of a new chapter for you, one filled with hope and healing. Let me be part of that journey, even just as a friend offering support.”

Finally smiling back, I accepted his generosity and felt a spark of hope.

***

In Paris, the vibrant streets became my healing ground. Jack, acting as my unexpected guardian, guided me through the city, each day mending my heart a little more. As we explored this wonderful place, from the serene Seine to the bustling Montmartre, I shared my innermost thoughts with him, feeling an unexpected bond forming.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

One evening, under the Eiffel Tower’s glow, I realized my feelings for Jack had evolved into something deeper. This change was both exciting and daunting, especially because I had just met him. Perhaps, it was this city. Maybe it wasn’t real, but it felt genuine.

And the magic of this place wasn’t over. An unexpected turn came one crisp morning when I received an email that would once again alter the course of my journey.

On a flight of fancy, before I had decided to chase my husband on his “business trip” to Paris, I had applied for a job advertised on LinkedIn at a prestigious fashion house.

This opportunity promised a stable, independent life in this new city. But there was uncertainty, too. Accepting the position meant anchoring myself to Paris, to a life that was still foreign and new.

It also posed a question that tugged at my heart — what would this mean for my budding relationship with Jack? Conflicted, I discussed the job with him during a rain-soaked walk.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

“I’m so proud of you,” Jack said when I finished explaining, his voice warm and encouraging. “This is an incredible opportunity. You’ve come so far, and you deserve every bit of success and happiness that comes your way.”

“But what about us?” I asked.

Jack reached out and took both my hands in his. “What we have is special, and I won’t pretend that this doesn’t complicate things. But I also know that love isn’t about holding each other back. It’s about supporting each other’s dreams, even when it’s hard.”

Tears glistened in my eyes as the truth of his words sank in. Here was a man who truly wanted what was best for me, who understood the importance of finding my own way.

“You have a chance to start anew, to build a life that’s entirely your own,” Jack continued, squeezing my hand. “No matter what you decide, I’ll be here for you. We’ll figure out the rest together.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

As we kissed under the twinkling lights and tumbling rain, the sounds of the city around us, I felt a profound sense of gratitude. Paris had offered me a chance at redemption, and in Jack, I had found not just a lover but a true partner.

***

While we prepared to leave, Jack offered me a choice: return with him to New York or stay in Paris for the job. He would try to make it work, either way. Touched by his support, I realized what I truly wanted.

“I’ve found strength and love here, Jack, but you have changed everything for me,” I shared. “I want to give us a chance.”

So, during our last walk along the Seine, we decided to return to New York together, committed to each other.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

***

However, the reality of our situation set in once we landed at JFK. I met him at baggage claim, and as we walked outside, Jack expressed his concerns about the practicalities of our relationship given his career and lifestyle.

“My job is not just a job to me. Flying, exploring new cities — it’s a part of who I am. I’m away a lot, and I worry about what that means for us,” he said carefully.

“I love you and while I’m scared, I believe we can navigate this together,” I assured him.

“It might not work,” Jack continued, the words hanging heavy between us. “Let’s take a few days to think about this. To think about us. I want you to be sure.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

I nodded, swallowing thickly and feeling like our Parisian love bubble was bursting.

Then, Jack handed me a voucher for a hotel stay in New York. “I don’t want you to feel unsupported,” he said. “Take your time to decide what you want, especially about Brian. I’ll be in touch.”

“I swear I want to make this work, Jack,” I said, desperately.

“I still think we both should take some time. Traveling can muddle your brain, especially about love,” he admitted, and we said goodbye with just a small peck.

I remained alone at the terminal long after Jack left. While I was contemplating my future, Brian’s mocking voice interrupted my solitude. “How’s life after your escapade with the pilot?” he taunted, with his mistress by his side.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

“Go away, Brian,” I said, grabbing my bag and starting to roll away.

“Wait, dear wife. How’s life treating you after your little affair with the pilot? Didn’t take long for that to fall apart, did it? Are you all alone here, waiting for me to rescue you?” my husband asked, mocking me.

“Wife?” the woman at his side finally asked.

“Nina, not now,” Brian said dismissively.

Watching her face, I realized she had no idea Brian was married. Suddenly, her hand moved and a sharp sound echoed through the terminal — the unmistakable crack of a slap. Nina had struck him.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

“You lied to me!” she exclaimed. Brian, stunned, had no defense. Then, she turned to me full of apologies.

I gave her an understanding nod. “It’s not your fault,” I said, crossing my arms as I stared at my husband.

With a firm stance, Nina declared to Brian, “We’re done,” and walked away.

I faced my husband, wanting to laugh, but noting that I didn’t feel an ounce of love for him anymore. “Goodbye, Brian,” I said and walked away from him, just like Nina.

It was liberating.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

***

The vibrancy of New York mirrored my own transformation. I had evolved from my sad, lonely marriage. Reflecting on my journey with Jack, I realized our shared experiences had ignited a deep desire for adventure and growth.

Therefore, I decided to become an air hostess, blending my newfound independence with my love for Jack and the skies. With his support, I navigated the application process and training, and our relationship matured into a fantastic partnership.

At last, I was assigned to my first flight, coincidentally on one of Jack’s routes. Dressed in my air hostess uniform, I met his proud gaze as I walked down the airplane aisle.

His embrace and the kiss we shared were filled with the promise of the brightest future together.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/LOVEBUSTER

Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.

If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a stewardess who banned an Arab man from boarding a plane, unaware he was the airline’s new owner.

This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.

My Dad Who Left 20 Years Ago Called from His Deathbed for a Final Wish — What He Asked Broke My Heart

My Dad Who Left 20 Years Ago Called from His Deathbed for a Final Wish — What He Asked Broke My Heart

When my estranged father, who left 20 years ago, called from his deathbed, I was torn between anger and curiosity. His final wish was something I never expected, and what he revealed about his disappearance shattered everything I thought I knew.

I was getting ready for bed when my phone buzzed on the nightstand. The number was unfamiliar, so I let it go to voicemail. Not even a minute later, a text came through: “ALICE, THIS IS YOUR DAD. PLEASE CALL, I AM IN THE HOSPITAL.”

A woman in her bedroom at night, looking at her phone | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her bedroom at night, looking at her phone | Source: Midjourney

My heart stopped. Dad? After twenty years? I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the message. Part of me wanted to delete it and forget, but curiosity won. I called the number back.

“Hello?” The voice was weak, barely audible.

“Dad?”

“Alice, it’s me. I… I don’t have much time.”

“Why are you calling now?” My voice was harsher than I intended.

“I need to explain… to ask something of you. But please, don’t tell your mother.”

Doctors standing beside a hospital bed, looking concerned | Source: Pexels

Doctors standing beside a hospital bed, looking concerned | Source: Pexels

There it was, the same secrecy that defined my childhood. “What do you want?”

He took a shaky breath. “I left because your grandfather, Harold, paid me to disappear. He hated me, thought I was a failure. He found someone else for your mom, someone better.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Grandpa? He did that?”

“Yes. I was struggling back then. Addictions, bad decisions. Your grandfather saw a chance to get rid of me, and I took the money.”

A sick-looking man lying in bed | Source: Pexels

A sick-looking man lying in bed | Source: Pexels

“So you just left us for money?” Anger bubbled up.

“I know it sounds awful. But I invested that money, built a business. It was all for you, Alice. To secure your future.”

“Why didn’t you ever come back?”

“Part of the deal. I couldn’t approach you or your mom. But I was there, watching. I saw your graduation, your volleyball games. I was always there, just… from a distance.”

I felt like my world was tilting. “Why didn’t Mom ever tell me?”

An old man in a hospital bed talking on a cell phone | Source: Midjourney

An old man in a hospital bed talking on a cell phone | Source: Midjourney

“I don’t know. Maybe she didn’t want you to hate him. Or maybe she thought she was protecting you.”

“What do you want now?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“I need to see you, Alice. One last time before I go. I’m at St. Mary’s Hospital.”

I didn’t know what to say. Could I face him after everything?

“Please, Alice. It’s my dying wish.”

The exterior of a hospital building at night | Source: Midjourney

The exterior of a hospital building at night | Source: Midjourney

The line went silent, and I sat there, the phone still in my hand, my thoughts tumbling. Should I go? What would I even say to him? I needed to think, but there was no time. He was dying.

The next morning, I called in sick to work and sat in my kitchen, staring at my coffee. Should I tell Mom? But he’d asked me not to.

I called my best friend, Jen. “Hey, can we talk?”

“Of course. What’s up?”

A woman talking on a cell phone | Source: Pexels

A woman talking on a cell phone | Source: Pexels

“It’s… it’s my dad. He called last night.”

“Your dad? The one who left?”

“Yeah. He’s dying, and he wants to see me.”

“Wow. How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know. Angry, confused. He told me things, Jen. About my Grandpa.”

“Like what?”

“That my grandfather paid him to leave. He said he was there at my graduation, my games. But he couldn’t approach us.”

“That’s insane. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. He wants me to visit him, but I’m not sure I can.”

A woman in conversation on a cell phone | Source: Pexels

A woman in conversation on a cell phone | Source: Pexels

Jen was silent for a moment. “Maybe you should go. Get some answers. Closure.”

“I guess. But I don’t know if I’m ready to face him.”

“Take your time, but don’t take too long. If he’s dying…”

“I know. Thanks, Jen.”

After hanging up, I sat back, deep in thought. Jen was right. Maybe I did need closure. I couldn’t keep living with these unanswered questions. And if he really was dying… I had to see him.

A woman driving a car | Source: Pexels

A woman driving a car | Source: Pexels

I decided to go to the hospital. As I drove, memories of my childhood flashed through my mind. The good times before he left, the confusion and pain afterward. The way Mom never spoke about him, the unanswered questions that haunted me.

I walked into the hospital room, feeling the weight of years and unanswered questions pressing down on me. The beeping machines filled the stark room with an unsettling rhythm. My dad lay in the bed, looking more frail than I had ever imagined. His eyes lit up when he saw me, a weak smile forming on his lips.

An old man sitting up in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney

An old man sitting up in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney

“Alice,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Hi, Dad.” I stood at the foot of the bed, not sure what to say. Anger and confusion swirled inside me, but seeing him like this, so vulnerable, made it hard to voice them.

“You came,” he said, relief evident in his eyes.

“I had to. I needed to understand why.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry for everything.” He reached out a trembling hand, and I took it, feeling the cold, fragile skin.

A young woman close to an old man in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney

A young woman close to an old man in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney

“Why did you do it, Dad? Why did you take Grandpa’s money and leave us?”

He sighed, a deep, rattling sound. “I thought it was the best way to secure a future for you and your mother. I was a mess, Alice. Addicted, broke. Your grandfather offered me a way out, a chance to give you a better life, even if it meant I couldn’t be part of it.”

“Do you know how much that hurt us? How much it hurt me?” Tears welled up in my eyes. “You missed everything, Dad. My graduation, my volleyball games, my entire life.”

A woman with tears in her eyes | Source: Midjourney

A woman with tears in her eyes | Source: Midjourney

“I was there, Alice. Watching from afar. It broke my heart not to be with you, but I thought I was doing the right thing.” He paused, struggling for breath. “I tried to make it right. I invested the money, built something that I hoped would help you.”

“Why didn’t you come back when you were better?”

“I couldn’t. Part of the deal was that I had to stay away. But I wrote to you, Alice. Letters, every year. They’re in a safety deposit box. Here.” He handed me a small key. “After I’m gone, open it. You’ll find proof of everything, and the letters.”

A small key in the palm of a hand | Source: Pexels

A small key in the palm of a hand | Source: Pexels

I took the key, my fingers trembling. “Why now, Dad? Why tell me all this now?”

“Because I’m dying, and I can’t leave this world without you knowing the truth. I love you, Alice. I’ve always loved you.”

Tears streamed down my face as I gripped his hand. “I needed you, Dad. I needed my father.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. But I hope you’ll understand why I did what I did when you read those letters.”

An apparently comatose figure in a hospital bed | Source: Pexels

An apparently comatose figure in a hospital bed | Source: Pexels

We sat in silence, holding hands, the machines’ beeping the only sound in the room. After a while, his breathing became more labored. He squeezed my hand one last time, and then he was gone.

I left the hospital feeling a mix of emotions. Relief, anger, sadness, and a strange sense of closure. The next day, I went to the bank and used the key to open the safety deposit box. Inside, I found stacks of financial documents and a bundle of letters, each one addressed to me, dated over the years.

A corridor of safety deposit boxes | Source: Midjourney

A corridor of safety deposit boxes | Source: Midjourney

I took the letters home and spent hours reading them. Each one was filled with his regrets, his love, his hopes for my future. He wrote about the business he built, how he watched over me, how proud he was of my achievements.

By the time I finished the last letter, my anger had softened into a deep, aching sadness.

With the financial documents, it was clear that my father had indeed worked hard to secure my future. The money he left behind was substantial, enough to change my life. But it wasn’t just about the money. It was about understanding his choices, his sacrifices, and his love.

A woman takes up a hand-written letter | Source: Pexels

A woman takes up a hand-written letter | Source: Pexels

I knew I had to talk to my mom. I needed to know her side of the story. When I confronted her, she looked at me with sad eyes.

“I knew about the offer,” she admitted. “I didn’t stop it because I thought it was best for you too. I thought you deserved a better life than what your father could give you at that time.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I wanted to protect you from the truth, to let you remember him without bitterness. Maybe I was wrong, but I did what I thought was best.”

An elderly woman looking down thoughtfully | Source: Pexels

An elderly woman looking down thoughtfully | Source: Pexels

Her confession was another piece of the puzzle, helping me to understand the complex web of decisions that shaped my life.

In the end, I decided to use the money to start a scholarship fund in my father’s name. It felt like the right way to honor his memory and his efforts. It was a way to help others, just as he had tried to help me.

As I launched the scholarship, I felt a sense of peace. The past was complicated and painful, but it had brought me to where I was. And now, with the truth out in the open, I could move forward, honoring both my father’s love and my mother’s sacrifices.

A woman making calculations with a pen in hand | Source: Pexels

A woman making calculations with a pen in hand | Source: Pexels

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