Chapter 4
I smiled bitterly—he hadn’t even given me the chance to end things face-to-face. The next morning, instead of going to the registry, I took my luggage straight to the airport. By noon, Thaddeus hadn’t even called to ask why I hadn’t shown up.
Just before boarding, I finally received a message: “Sorry, Scarlett wasn’t feeling well. I just took her to the hospital. Missed today’s registration. When you return from this flight, I’ll take you to register first thing.”
Reading this, I felt nothing. As expected, he’d missed our eighteenth registration attempt. I sent this final message: “Don’t bother, Thaddeus. I’ve resigned and I’m flying to Paris. After today, we won’t see each other again.”
I was about to turn off my phone, but the chat window exploded with notifications. The cabin announcement repeatedly reminded passengers about imminent takeoff. I ignored the vibrating phone, deleted Thaddeus’s contact, and powered off my device. From that moment on, Thaddeus and I had no connection.
At the hospital, Thaddeus frantically responded to my message, only to be met with a red exclamation mark. He kept calling repeatedly. “The number you have dialed is currently switched off…” Despite the automated message, he desperately pressed the screen, calling again and again. “Impossible… this can’t be happening. Everything was fine yesterday. I told her we’d register our marriage…”
He stood dazed for several minutes before rushing out of the hospital and driving to the airport. “Manager Davidson, wasn’t Claire supposed to be on duty today? What’s this about her resigning and going to Paris? What’s happening?”
In the flight attendant center, he desperately grabbed my supervisor’s hand. The manager looked puzzled. “Didn’t Claire tell you? She resigned after your celebration banquet two days ago. I asked if you knew, and she said she’d tell you that evening.”
These words hit Thaddeus like lightning. He suddenly remembered—he hadn’t come home that night. Yesterday noon, he’d only returned briefly to grab a gift before rushing out. Even last night, he’d left minutes after arriving home when Scarlett called. In those two days, he hadn’t given me any time to talk; he’d been constantly by Scarlett’s side.
Raving through the flight center, Thaddeus sat motionless at the airport for three hours. Memories flooded back. Eight years ago, we first met at the security checkpoint. It was my first transition from ground crew to flight crew. I was so excited I hadn’t slept, looking somewhat disheveled, even dropping my work ID at security. He picked it up, preventing a serious mistake. That’s how we learned each other’s names.
After that, he often invited me to late-night airport meals after flights. We went from strangers to lovers. We explored every corner of this airport together. Even more fortunately, we were assigned to the same route—every aviation couple’s dream. Flying domestic routes together, international flights together, we left our footprints across the world. We became the airline’s golden couple, envied by all.
Five years after falling in love, we held our wedding at this very airport. Many colleagues wondered if we would have stayed in love for another five years, or even fifteen, if Scarlett hadn’t appeared. But I knew—if not Scarlett, it would have been someone else. Love, or its absence, often isn’t about others, but about oneself.
Three hours later, as dusk approached, Thaddeus drove home. Entering, he went to hang his coat as usual, noticing again the mark where our photo had hung. His eyes fell on the nearby trash can. (The story ends abruptly here. "Unspoken" appears to be the beginning of a title or subtitle.)