My Final Flight: Too Late for Him to Come

On the flight home, the plane starts shaking violently. Certain I'm about to die, I call my husband, Rhys Callahan, to say my last words. He hangs up on me, and his auto-reply flashes on the screen. "Driving. On my way to pick up Daphne." I've taken 86 flights in our five years of marriage. Every time I'm about to land, I ask him to come get me, and every time, the answer is the same. "Daphne's getting in too. I have to pick her up." He picks up Daphne Langston all 86 times. The lowest point comes during a rainstorm. I drag my suitcase through the downpour outside the terminal for two hours, unable to get a ride. When I call him, Daphne's voice comes through, laughing. "Oh, Rhys is helping me with my luggage right now. He can't come to the phone." Now the cabin fills with screaming and sobbing. The plane spirals out of control at cruising altitude, the left wing shearing away as flames light up the windows. My phone buzzes with a message from him. "Just picked Daphne up. What time do you land? I'll come get you." I stare at the screen and let out a bitter laugh. After five years, he's finally offering to pick me up. But fire swallows the plane as it plunges toward the ground. He doesn't know I'm no longer coming home. Chapter 1 "Rhys, Wren still hasn't texted you back?" The heater hummed inside the car. Daphne Langston sat in the passenger seat while Rhys Callahan, my husband, kept his eyes on the traffic light ahead. "Not yet. She's giving me the silent treatment." I sat in the back seat, watching them both in silence. I wasn't giving him the silent treatment. I was dead. My body was still somewhere in the wreckage, still falling. But somehow, my soul had drifted back to Rhys' car. He picked up his phone and recorded a voice message. "Wren, I'm already at the terminal. Which exit are you at?" The message went through, but minutes ticked by with no reply. The wind whipped hard outside the terminal, and Daphne sneezed. "You don't think something happened to her, do you?" Rhys let out a dry laugh. "Like what? She's just mad I didn't come get her, so she's pulling a disappearing act." He picked up his phone and sent another. "Wren, there's a limit to how long you can sulk. Daphne and I are both out here waiting." It went unanswered. Rhys shoved his phone into his pocket, his jaw tight. "Forget it. It's too windy. Let me take you home first. She'll come back on her own once she's done with her little tantrum." He had no idea I was right there in the back seat, staring at the side of his face. He couldn't have looked more indifferent. Daphne's favorite music played through the speakers for the entire half-hour drive to her apartment. Rhys unbuckled his seatbelt, got out, and grabbed her luggage while Daphne pulled her coat tighter around herself. "Thanks for picking me up tonight. You should head back and go get Wren." Rhys lifted her suitcase out. "She doesn't need picking up. She's a grown woman with two working legs. She can get herself a cab." I stood right next to them, watching the whole thing play out. In five years of marriage and 86 flights, he never came for me once. Every time I waited alone in the freezing cold, standing in some endless taxi line, he was across town in the middle of the night being everything Daphne could ever need. He wheeled the suitcase through the lobby door. "Go on up." Daphne stepped forward and hugged him. "Thank you, Rhys. For as long as I can remember, you've always been there when I needed you most." He patted her back gently. "Get some sleep." Daphne turned and stepped into the elevator. Rhys stood outside and lit a cigarette. The ember pulsed in the dark. He pulled up our chat window one more time, but there was still nothing. Whatever patience he had left finally ran out. He typed out two messages. "Wren, if you insist on pulling this crap, don't ever expect me to come pick you up again." "Throw your fit and take a cab home." He hit send, locked the screen, and stubbed the cigarette out on the edge of a trash can before getting back in the car. I sat in the passenger seat, watching him start the engine. He would never have to go get me again anyway. I was never coming back. Chapter 2 Rhys talked tough, but on the drive home, he floored it. He was sure I'd already beaten him back. He could picture me sitting on the couch with my arms crossed, refusing to speak. He'd toss out a couple of half-hearted apologies when he walked in, and the whole thing would blow over. But when he opened the front door, the apartment was pitch-black. That annoyed him. Then his phone buzzed, and he grabbed it, a flicker of anticipation crossing his face. It died the second he saw the name. It was from Daphne. "All settled in and about to sleep. Did Wren ever get back to you?" He typed back one-handed. "Not yet. She probably checked into a hotel near the airport." "Maybe you should go look for her? It's really late for a woman to be out alone." He huffed out a quiet laugh. "She's a grown woman. She'll be fine." He walked into the bedroom. On the nightstand sat a framed photo of us from our third anniversary. His gaze lingered on it for a moment, and I hovered right beside him, thinking he was finally remembering. After midnight tonight, it would be five years. But the only thing that lingered was his irritation. He pulled open the closet, grabbed a change of clothes, and disappeared into the bathroom. Water thundered against the tiles. He never noticed that the bottom drawer of the closet hadn't shut all the way. The corner of a pink gift box peeked through the gap. That was supposed to be his anniversary surprise at midnight. Inside was a pregnancy checkup result and a tiny pair of baby shoes I'd spent weeks picking out. If the plane hadn't gone down, I would have put that box in his hands tonight. Instead, the baby and I had both burned to nothing, scattered somewhere across the sky. The water stopped. Rhys came out in his robe and checked his phone on the balcony. There was still nothing from me. He tried calling, but no one picked up. The irritation crept back in, and he fired off another string of messages. "Wren, I don't have the patience for this whole running-away act." "I'm taking Daphne to that breakfast spot near the airport for breakfast tomorrow. Come meet us there." "And don't make me go door to door through every hotel near the terminal looking for you. That's embarrassing for both of us." He tossed his phone onto the patio chair, went back inside, and got into bed. I stared at those messages, sitting there unanswered, and felt nothing but sadness wash over me. That breakfast spot near the airport was my favorite restaurant, 12 miles from downtown. I'd asked him to go with me on a weekend so many times. He always said it was too far out of the way and not worth the drive. Now Daphne wanted to go, and suddenly 12 miles was nothing. Rhys lay in bed and turned off the light. In the dark, his breathing slowly steadied. He slept soundly, still believing that when the sun came up tomorrow, everything would go back to normal. Chapter 3 The next morning, Rhys tried calling me one more time before he left the house. But there was still no answer. He picked up Daphne and headed for the breakfast spot near the airport. Rush hour traffic crawled, and the radio was running the morning news. "In the early hours of this morning, an inbound flight from Crestfield encountered severe turbulence and crashed. Search and rescue operations are currently underway. The fate of the 132 passengers and crew on board remains unknown." Daphne clapped a hand over her mouth, the color draining from her face. "Oh my god. Wren was flying back from Crestfield too. She wasn't on that flight, was she?" Rhys tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, completely unbothered. "She never takes that one. It's the prime-time slot, and the tickets cost more. She'd never spend the money." I sat in the back seat, watching his confident profile. He had no idea. I'd switched to that flight so I could get home earlier, all so I could surprise him the night before our fifth anniversary. He parked outside the restaurant. "Come on, let's eat. Can't have our girl going hungry." The place was packed and loud. Rhys scanned the crowd over Daphne's head, searching for a familiar face. He kept checking his watch, growing more agitated by the minute. Knowing me, I would have gotten there early and grabbed a table. But the minutes dragged on, and I never showed. "Her temper's really getting out of hand." He figured he'd finish eating and then hit up the hotels near the airport one by one. But before he could, his VP called about an urgent meeting and told him to get back to the office. After breakfast, he dropped Daphne off and drove straight to work. His assistant, Tessa Moreno, met him the second he walked in. "Mr. Callahan, the materials for the meeting are ready." "Good." Rhys slipped off his jacket and hung it over the back of his chair. Tessa hesitated, then spoke up. "Sir, is your wife alright? I saw the news about the crash last night. I was worried." Rhys opened his laptop without looking up. "She's fine. She wasn't on that flight." "That's a relief." Tessa relaxed, then added, "Today's your fifth anniversary, sir. Would you like me to book a restaurant for tonight?" Rhys paused. It took a beat for it to register that today actually mattered. His expression softened just slightly. He thought it was no wonder I'd been so upset last night—upset enough to go completely off the grid for the first time ever. "Book that bistro by the river. And order a dozen red roses." Tessa smiled, nodded, and left to take care of it. Rhys picked up his phone again. My chat was still dead silent. He let out a quiet sigh and typed a message. "Wren, I was wrong not to come get you last night." Then he sent the restaurant's location. "Tonight at 7:00. Let me make it up to you?" He was already calculating how this would play out. Once I came home and saw what he'd put together, I'd cool off. That was always his playbook. He'd do something terrible, then throw a nice dinner and a bouquet at it, and assume that was enough to smooth over every bit of hurt he'd put me through. He didn't know I would never get to see any of it. Chapter 4 The sky turned heavy and gray that afternoon, rain threatening to break at any moment. Rhys couldn't shake a quiet sense of unease. Then Daphne texted. "Rhys, I got a bonus on my project! I want to take you out to dinner tonight to celebrate. Are you free?" He hesitated. Tonight was supposed to be our anniversary. But he figured he could have dinner with Daphne first and still make it back by 7:00 pm. He wrote back, "Sure, send me the address." I watched him make that choice in silence. It'd been five years, and it was always the same. The second Daphne asked, even on the most important day we had, she came first. After work, he went to dinner with Daphne. He sat there patiently, listening to her talk about funny things that happened at the office, raising his glass to toast her success. It wasn't until nearly 7:00 pm that he glanced at his watch, grabbed his jacket, and stood up. "I've got something tonight, so I need to head out. The tab's already covered." On his way to the car, he passed a high-end jewelry store and ducked inside. He picked out a diamond necklace as an anniversary gift. I sat in the passenger seat, staring at the box. He'd forgotten again. I had a severe nickel allergy. He'd given me a similar necklace once before, and I wore it all day without saying a word because I didn't want to ruin the moment. That night, the allergic reaction got bad enough to land me in the ER. He'd held my hand, guilt written all over his face, and swore it would never happen again. Now he didn't even remember that promise. By the time he walked into the bistro with the necklace, he was a full 30 minutes late. He expected to find me sitting there the way I always was on this day, every year for the past four, already waiting in my seat. The empty chair stopped him cold. He dropped the gift box onto the table with a hard thud and sent another voice message. "Wren, I booked the restaurant, and I bought you an apology gift. What more do you want? Isn't that enough of an olive branch?" A server approached cautiously. "Sir, would you like your steak served now?" "Give me ten more minutes." He yanked at his tie in frustration. He'd even left Daphne's celebration early for this anniversary. He wondered just what more I could possibly want from him. He had no idea I was sitting right across from him. But his eyes stayed fixed on the door. He was certain I'd walk in. Just like every time in our five years of marriage, all he had to do was toss me the smallest scrap of effort, and I'd swallow every last thing that hurt. The minutes crawled by. The rain outside grew heavier, and the crease between his brows deepened. Last night's silence and the crash on the morning news kept circling in his head, and the restlessness in his chest built up into something closer to real dread. Then his phone erupted with a violent buzz. The name flashing on the screen was mine. Every ounce of tension drained out of him. He let out a long breath and picked up. "So you're finally done playing hard to get? I knew you couldn't hold out much longer." But the voice on the other end wasn't mine. It was a man's, clipped and official. "Is this the family of a Ms. Wren Bennett? The flight she was on has crashed. We need you to come identify the body immediately."