My husband ditched our baby and me at the airport to enjoy a ‘stress-free’ vacation alone. But what awaited him on that trip—and when he came back—was far from relaxing. I stood in the middle of the crowded airport terminal, swaying on tired legs, trying to calm my screaming daughter.
Ava’s tiny fists were balled against my chest as she wailed so loudly that people passing by turned to stare. My arms ached from holding her for so long, and the dull throb behind my eyes promised a migraine was on its way. Where was Daniel?
I bounced Ava gently, whispering, “Shh, baby girl. It’s okay. Daddy will be back soon.”
But he wasn’t.
With one hand, I fished my phone out of my bag and refreshed my messages. A new notification popped up from Daniel. For a fleeting moment, relief washed over me.
Maybe he was just picking up snacks or had gotten lost in the crowd. Then I opened it. My stomach dropped.
It was a selfie of Daniel, grinning from ear to ear in an airplane seat. The caption read:
“I couldn’t wait any longer. I really needed this vacation.
I work so hard. Just catch the next flight with Ava. Love you.”
I stared at the screen, speechless.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered under my breath. Ava’s cries grew louder, almost as if she sensed my panic. I hugged her tighter, but my heart was hammering in my chest.
He left us. Just like that—left me stranded in the airport with our baby, and he flew off to paradise without us. Tears burned the back of my eyes, but anger surged stronger than the urge to cry.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” I whispered to Ava, more for myself than for her. “We’re going home.”
The cab ride back blurred into a haze of streetlights and honking horns. I sat rigidly, my mind replaying Daniel’s smug grin in that selfie.
The audacity. The selfishness. I could practically hear his voice saying he “deserved” this trip, as though I didn’t deserve rest too after months of sleepless nights with a newborn.
By the time I carried Ava into the apartment and put her down for a nap, the anger had crystallized into something sharper. I grabbed my phone and nearly called Daniel right then—but I stopped myself. No.
I wasn’t going to waste my breath begging for an explanation. He’d made his choice. I needed a plan.
I paced the living room, my bare feet slapping the hardwood floor, until an idea struck me. A grim little smile tugged at my lips. If Daniel wanted his solo vacation, he was going to get it—but not the way he imagined.
I picked up my phone and dialed the resort where he was staying. “Sunset Bay Resort, how may I assist you?” a chipper voice answered. “Hi,” I said smoothly, “I’m calling about my husband’s reservation.
Daniel Parker?”
After verifying a few details, the receptionist confirmed his booking. “Perfect,” I said. “I’d like to make some special arrangements for him.”
Her tone brightened even further.
“Of course! What would you like us to do?”
That’s when I unleashed the list forming in my head. “Could you schedule wake-up calls for him at three, five, and seven in the morning?
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