We had been dreaming of a vacation for years, but it just never worked out. Finally, a miracle happened — we managed to carve out a few days and grab last-minute plane tickets. Since we booked so late, we didn’t get seats together. I wasn’t upset: two hours apart didn’t matter compared to the joy of finally heading to the sea.
But I never expected those two hours to test my patience the way they did.
The First Warning Signs
As I walked down the aisle to my seat, I noticed who was sitting next to my husband. A young woman — no more than twenty — in ultra-short denim shorts and a skimpy top that barely covered her chest. Her lips painted bright red, her lashes long enough to fan the air. I thought nothing of it at first. “So what?” I told myself. “It’s just a seatmate.”
But thirty minutes into the flight, I realized this was no innocent coincidence. She was laughing at every word my husband muttered, no matter how plain. She “accidentally” brushed against his arm, leaned in close, and asked for his help with things she could easily do herself.
The Tactics of a Flirt
Her behavior grew bolder. At one point, she stretched out her long legs and propped them on the seat in front — right under my husband’s nose. She sat there like a model posing for a magazine spread, flaunting every curve, every line.
