Sky‑High Wife, Sky‑High Sin

I have my headphones on as I direct flight routes.

A pilot named Everett Wright suddenly switches into the voice channel I'm on. Then, he publicly mocks me for being inept in bed.

"Hey, Jacob! Your wife said you're practically hopeless in bed and that you're done in just a second! Are you seriously a one-second shooter? Ahahaha!"

When the rest of the crew hear Everett's words, they can't stop themselves from laughing too.

Thinking that this isn't humiliating enough for me, Everett flicks on a private channel purposefully. I can hear my wife, Charlotte O'Brien, suppressing her moans and pants.

"Hurry up, honey! Why did you switch to my husband's channel? Stop messing around and just turn it off already!"

Charlotte's voice is tinged with a hint of affection. She doesn't care about whether or not I got humiliated—she just enjoys the thrill of being able to flirt with her lover in public.

I took a deep breath, forcing down the anger churning inside me. "Hyperion Airlines 001, the thunderstorm area is spreading. A diversion to Santrix is recommended."

Over the channel, Everett Wright's laughter only grew more unrestrained. "Lottie already set the route for me. We like a bit of excitement."

After all the flights had landed safely, I stepped out of the control tower. The cold rain lashed against my face, yet I felt not the slightest trace of chill.

I had just taken out my phone when Charlotte O'Brien's call came through. Seeing the words "Her Majesty" on the screen, a wave of nausea rose in my throat.

I accepted the call. Charlotte's voice was as cold and unwavering as ever, as though the woman who had just been flirting at 30,000 feet was someone else entirely.

"I want a brand-new pair of Givchi black stockings. Have them delivered to the aircraft in ten minutes," she ordered.

For the past three years, Charlotte had cheated on me again and again. Afterward, she would use demands like this to humiliate me.

Meanwhile, I had remained the pathetic, incompetent husband, perpetually fixing the mess she left behind.

"Enough. Let's get a divorce," I said, my voice hoarse.

After a brief pause, Charlotte let out a soft, derisive chuckle. "Stop messing around, Jacob. I'm tired. Don't play these games with me. You'd better send those stockings over."

A sharp beep followed as the call ended.

As I stared at the digital divorce agreement sent by my lawyer, the last trace of warmth in my gaze disappeared.

"Fine. If you want me to deliver them, I will," I thought.

Without changing out of my uniform, I rushed straight to the tarmac. The sight inside the cabin made my blood boil.