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.

I Gifted My Late Wife’s Apron to My Daughter-in-Law – Imagine My Shock When I Found It in the Dumpster

As Thanksgiving approaches, William mourns his wife, Ellen, and wonders how he’s going to spend their favorite holiday without her. But his daughter-in-law, Amelia, loves to cook and has taken to cooking for dinner. Moved by his feelings and nostalgia, William gifts her Ellen’s most loved and worn apron. But when he finds the apron in the garbage, he realizes that his hurt goes all the way back to his grief, fueling a reaction.

It was the morning before Thanksgiving, and I was feeling the full weight of Ellen not being around anymore. This was the first Thanksgiving without my wife, who had passed away almost a year ago.

A rose on a tombstone | Source: Freepik

A rose on a tombstone | Source: Freepik

I sat on the armchair in my bedroom and left my newspaper to the side. If Ellen were still around, she would have had an entire shopping list ready for me to get.

“It’s just the last-minute things, William,” she would say, absentmindedly doodling on the grocery list while she pondered what else we would need.

A woman writing | Source: Unsplash

A woman writing | Source: Unsplash

“Sure, honey,” I’d always tell her, ready to go to the store and get her everything she needed.

But this year was the first time in 30 years that I wouldn’t have Ellen around for the holidays.

Instead, my son’s wife, Amelia, promised us that she would take over the Thanksgiving dinner.

A smiling young woman | Source: Freepik

A smiling young woman | Source: Freepik

“Don’t worry, Dad,” my son, Harry, told me. “Amelia cooks just like Mom, and Mom taught her a few things, too.”

I wasn’t worried about anything. If I had to be honest, I was grateful that the kitchen would be used in all its glory once again. Since Ellen passed away, Harry and Amelia had moved in with me.

A fancy kitchen | Source: Unsplash

A fancy kitchen | Source: Unsplash

“It won’t be for long, Dad,” Harry said. “But I don’t want you to be alone. And this way, Amelia and I can save up for a house in the meantime. We all need to heal together.”

When they moved in, I tried to put a lot of Ellen’s things away. I wanted them to feel at home, too.

Packing boxes | Source: Unsplash

Packing boxes | Source: Unsplash

I couldn’t argue with Harry because the thought of being alone in the house that Ellen and I had built was too much. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to cope without her.

I needed the support from my son.

A smiling old man | Source: Unsplash

A smiling old man | Source: Unsplash

The longer I sat in my room, wrapped in the thoughts of my wife, the more sentimental I got. Eventually, I decided to pass on something priceless to Amelia.

Opening Ellen’s closet, I pulled out her faded floral apron. It had been around for as long as I could remember, and every holiday had at least one photograph of Ellen in it.

A floral apron | Source: Pexels

A floral apron | Source: Pexels

There were a few food stains that just couldn’t be removed, but I thought that it added charm to the apron.

I thought that maybe if I passed the apron to Amelia, who shared Ellen’s passion for cooking, she would honor Ellen’s memory and Thanksgiving traditions.

An elderly woman cooking | Source: Pexels

An elderly woman cooking | Source: Pexels

The following morning, I was sitting in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal when Amelia came in, tying her hair and pulling up her sleeves.

“Hi, William,” she said. “Ready for Thanksgiving?”

A man pouring milk into a bowl | Source: Pexels

A man pouring milk into a bowl | Source: Pexels

“Of course, I am,” I said, smiling at her. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do in the kitchen today.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Harry isn’t going to help at all. He’s probably going to watch the parade or look for sports on TV.”

“There’s something I want you to have,” I told her.

A person watching sport on TV | Source: Pexels

A person watching sport on TV | Source: Pexels

I put the folded apron onto the counter and slid it across to her.

“Ellen would have wanted you to have this, Amelia,” I said. “This was her favorite apron, and she wore it for every holiday that involved the kitchen.”

Amelia smiled at me. It was a polite smile; maybe it was a bit strained, but I dismissed it as my own sentimentality clouding my judgment.

A woman with a forced smile | Source: Pexels

A woman with a forced smile | Source: Pexels

She put the apron on, her face changing slightly when she saw how well-worn it was and the old food stains.

“Great, thank you,” she said. “Let’s cook!”

We spent the next few hours cooking together. Amelia did things differently than Ellen. From her cooking style to the actual ingredients used.

A woman cooking | Source: Pexels

A woman cooking | Source: Pexels

I obeyed all her instructions and watched everything she did. It was different from what I was used to. But I still loved that Amelia was stepping up and taking control of the family holidays.

“Do you think we should do a table setting like what Ellen would have done?” she asked me.

A table setting and decor | Source: Unsplash

A table setting and decor | Source: Unsplash

“Of course,” I said. “It’s just part of the tradition!”

“Then maybe we should get Harry onto that,” she suggested.

The rest of the day flew by in the kitchen with cooking preparations. Every single time I thought of Ellen, I distracted myself with another task.

A man chopping mushrooms | Source: Pexels

A man chopping mushrooms | Source: Pexels

I watched as Amelia bustled around the kitchen in what seemed like genuine delight. As our closest family and friends began showing up for dinner, I went upstairs to freshen up for the occasion.

Everything was perfect, including Harry’s table setting. I missed Ellen throughout the evening, especially when the pies came out. My wife had a tradition of eating two slices of pie, one pecan and one pumpkin.

A pumpkin pie | Source: Pexels

A pumpkin pie | Source: Pexels

“It’s the one time of year that I eat them,” she would say, spraying whipped cream all over the slices of pie on her plate.

Now, as Harry cut into the pumpkin pie, he caught my eye and smiled, handing me the first piece.

“For Mom,” he said.

Cream on a slice of pie | Source: Pexels

Cream on a slice of pie | Source: Pexels

Everything seemed perfect. I went to bed that evening feeling as though my wife had been present. She was there, in the quiet moments after the dinner party, when I loaded the dishwasher and made myself a cup of tea.

But then, with the next morning came a different set of heartbreak.

A person stocking the dishwasher | Source: Unsplash

A person stocking the dishwasher | Source: Unsplash

I was out, taking my usual walk around the block. While taking a shortcut back home through the alley behind our house, I saw something that stopped me in my tracks. A glimpse of floral fabric, peering out from the top of our dumpster.

A man talking a walk | Source: Pexels

A man talking a walk | Source: Pexels

It was Ellen’s apron, discarded and partially covered in the newspaper that I had been reading and other refuse.

My heart sank, bringing a different sense of grief to me.

The apron that held so many cherished memories of Ellen was thrown away like common trash.

Outdoor trashcans | Source: Pexels

Outdoor trashcans | Source: Pexels

I retrieved the apron, the dew having made it damp in the crisp morning.

“How could Amelia do this?” I asked myself.

It felt like a betrayal, not just of Ellen’s memory, but of the love and trust that I had placed in her.

An old man holding his chin | Source: Unsplash

An old man holding his chin | Source: Unsplash

I could have let it go. I would have chalked it up to Amelia not wanting to wear something old, or even not wanting to wear something that once belonged to her mother-in-law. But it was the cold way in which she had discarded it.

Determined to teach her a lesson about respect and the value of memories, I thought that I’d sit down to tea with her and talk about cooking. It was the one thing that we constantly bonded over.

A cup of tea | Source: Pexels

A cup of tea | Source: Pexels

Amelia agreed, unaware that I knew about the apron. She followed me up the stairs, and I led her to the attic.

“Come on,” I said. “There’s something I want to show you.”

“Oh, William,” she said when she looked around the attic and saw the neatly preserved boxes.

An attic with stacked boxes and clothing | Source: Midjourney

An attic with stacked boxes and clothing | Source: Midjourney

“I’ve never been in here,” she said. “I didn’t know that we had an attic in this house.”

I stepped aside, allowing her to get into the room properly.

“Since you didn’t find value in the apron, maybe you’ll find something here that you won’t just throw away,” I said, my voice colder than I intended.

A woman covering her face with her hands | Source: Pexels

A woman covering her face with her hands | Source: Pexels

Amelia, visibly uncomfortable, shifted from foot to foot.

“William, I…” she began, her voice trailing off when she saw the apron hanging from a hook across the room.

I stood in silence as she tried to apologize, but her words seemed hollow.

A woman holding her face | Source: Pexels

A woman holding her face | Source: Pexels

“Look,” I said. “Maybe I forced it onto you, and I’m sorry about that, Amelia. But at the same time, I just thought that it would have been something to pass on to you. Not to mention that it was comforting for Harry and me to see.”

She nodded, nervously looking at the door. She was probably wondering if I had told Harry about the incident. I hadn’t. I didn’t want to create any unpleasantness between them.

A couple sitting uncomfortably | Source: Pexels

A couple sitting uncomfortably | Source: Pexels

But I still felt like a rift had been caused between us. As we continued to live under the same roof, I kept to myself as much as possible. I wasn’t angry with Amelia. I was hurt.

I was hurt on behalf of myself, of Ellen, and even Harry, who didn’t know any better.

I knew that I would get over it eventually, but for now, I just needed to let myself grieve my wife, and keep her memory strong.

A smiling old couple | Source: Pexels

A smiling old couple | Source: Pexels

What would you have done?

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