I thought I was saving my marriage. I bought a ticket to Paris, planning to surprise my husband, Brian, on his business trip.

Instead, I saw him in the airport with his arm around another woman. He turned pale when he saw me.

“Ava… what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” I whispered. “Spend time together in Paris.” Brian snatched my ticket from my hand and tore it in half.

“Go home, Ava. This is business.”

I stood there shaking. And that’s when I heard a voice. “Need a first-class ticket?”

I turned and saw a man in a pilot’s uniform. His name was Jack. “Everyone deserves a fresh start,” he said. He gave me a ticket to Paris. No strings attached. Brian saw me board the plane. And for the first time, he was the one panicking. In Paris, I walked along the Seine, heartbroken.

Jack found me. We talked. We laughed. And then, under the Eiffel Tower’s golden glow…

I realized I was falling for him. Days later, I received an email. I had applied for a job at a prestigious Parisian fashion house. They wanted me. But Jack was leaving. “Stay,” he whispered, “Or come back with me. I just want you to be happy.”

I chose New York. Because I wasn’t running anymore. Months later, I walked down the aisle on a plane. Not as a passenger. But as a flight attendant. Because Jack wasn’t the only one who deserved to soar.