“Ladies and gentlemen, Flight 2331 has landed safely…”
The announcement echoed through the cabin, and a collective sigh of relief swept across the passengers. Oxygen masks still dangled from overhead compartments, the faint metallic scent of blood lingering in the air—a chilling reminder of what they’d just endured.
Standing at the door, Jasmine Dodgson saw the last passenger off. Her back ached from the tension, her usually cool-toned face even paler than normal, exhaustion evident in every line.
Her left arm was bandaged, the bleeding finally stopped, but the smell of disinfectant clung stubbornly. The others were already on their phones, their voices full of emotion, tears threatening as they assured their loved ones they were okay.
But all Jasmine got was, “The number you’ve dialed is currently unavailable,” over and over again.
During the crisis, flight control had contacted all crew members’ families. Everyone had someone check in—except her…
“Jasmine, your husband didn’t come? Didn’t they notify the families already?” Brynlee squeezed over, holding tightly onto her boyfriend’s hand. The guy was still pale, visibly shaken—clearly scared out of his mind.
It was the kind of scene that stung to watch.
“He’s probably busy,” Jasmine muttered with a forced smile.
He never let her mention their relationship at work.
No one at Guanghang knew that the almighty Captain Marshall Lunnon had been married to a mere flight attendant for three years.
She’d turned down countless admirers because she considered herself taken.
Meanwhile, to the rest of the world, he was still the unattainable golden bachelor.
“Busy? We almost died just now, you think anything’s more important than that?” Brynlee clicked her tongue, clearly upset, but her boyfriend gave her hand a warning squeeze.
She reluctantly held her tongue and changed the subject, pulling Jasmine along to get her injury checked.
Jasmine didn’t resist, her heart already frozen solid.
“Look! Captain Lunnon!”
A sudden exclamation snapped her back.
She turned instinctively.
A group of Guanghang execs were walking toward them, and among the matching uniforms, one tall figure stood out clearly.
Marshall.
That chiseled face, his cold, restrained features—always so distant, so untouchable.
People were whispering.
“He’s insanely handsome.”
“Wait, who's that woman with him? Total boss energy.”
“That’s Clarissa Delahaye, the new senior engineer. Word is she and Captain Lunnon go way back. He’s been with her all morning, didn’t even want to take a call.”
“An engineer and a captain? Power couple vibes. Look at how softly he’s smiling at her. I’m jealous.”
Jasmine slowly looked past him—to Clarissa, standing right by his side.
Her hand clenched into a fist, knuckles turning white.
So he had been busy—busy keeping his old flame company.
Clarissa had recently announced she was coming back and joining Guanghang. Jasmine had known exactly what that meant.
Just like last time, Clarissa had said to her, “What you stole from me, I’ll take back. Count on it.”
Jasmine had never beaten her, not once. Those words had haunted her like a curse.
She’d told Marshall before Clarissa joined the company—there couldn’t be the three of them. He had to choose.
But clearly, he never gave it much thought. Or maybe this was his answer.
Clarissa had won. Again.
Old memories clawed their way up, dragging hidden pain into the light, raw and bleeding.
She stared at Marshall, the slight dip of his head as he spoke, the gentle lift of his lips—the way he smiled.
She had once imagined what it would be like if he truly loved someone. But now that she saw it for herself, the dull numbness hollowing out her chest was more terrifying than the hurt.
Maybe she should’ve just died in that crash today.If she died, then everything—all the hatred, all the pain—would just vanish with her. No one would know what those people did to her and her mom, what they did to the Su family. They’d still be out there living their best lives, like nothing ever happened. Hell, one of them was probably already cozying up to her husband, soaking in everything that used to belong to her.
Her emotions spiraled. She chucked her suitcase aside and made a move, but Brynlee yanked her back.
“Jasmine, come on, what are you doing? Sure, this whole mess started ‘cause Captain Lunnon had to switch shifts last minute, but you know he’s not someone you want to mess with. Just let it go.”
Another colleague who overheard chimed in, trying to smooth things over too.
“Yeah, we’re nobodies in the grand scheme of things. The company gave us the day off today—just enjoy it. Your husband’s probably waiting at home for you. You should head back and spend some time together.”
That’s when it finally hit Jasmine.
She knew even if she confronted him now, Marshall Lunnon was slick enough to make it backfire. She’d only end up being the one humiliated.
But husband?
She almost laughed out loud.
Her “husband” was out there playing house with a woman she couldn’t stand.
One totally blind, the other disgustingly shameless—they were quite the match made in hell.
“I lost it for a moment,” Jasmine said, swallowing her bitterness. “But honestly, my husband… he’s been dead for three years. I should’ve told you all earlier, that’s on me. Don’t bring it up again.”
Her calm, flat voice stunned everyone. Even the airline execs doing pre-boarding checks glanced over, startled.
A few sharp eyes locked onto her, and Marshall Lunnon's dark stare was especially cold and warning, a silent threat.
She just scoffed, bitterly amused. Didn’t even bother patching up the wound on her arm, just grabbed her luggage and walked off.
At Hibiscus Garden.
Jasmine cleaned herself up, treated her cut, and sat at her vanity. She stared down at her wedding ring.
She could still feel the warmth from the day he placed it on her finger.
But that warmth had turned into a thorn in her chest—a silent, constant ache that never let up, mocking her for hanging on this long.
With everything in her, she ripped the ring off. Her skin turned red as she rubbed where it used to sit, then she casually tossed it into the jewelry box.
…
At 10:30 p.m., Marshall walked into Hibiscus Garden with the night wrapped around him.
He had a designer bag in hand—one of D’s latest releases. He’d seen it once while snooping through Jasmine’s laptop.
It wasn't until he wrapped up a project meeting that he realized Jasmine had been on the flight that almost crashed today.
Thankfully, the landing went okay.
He remembered how she shot him that look earlier—he thought it was about Clarissa. But maybe it was about the whole incident.
Good thing, though—Jasmine was usually easy to handle.
Or so he thought.
The second he stepped into the house, something felt off. Every light was on, yet there was no sign of Jasmine anywhere.
He frowned, eyes drifting to the empty dining table.
He was used to her leaving warm meals for him, even if he came home late. Even if he'd already eaten, she’d insist he have a bowl of porridge to settle his stomach.
What now, she was giving him the silent treatment?
He felt a twinge of annoyance but shoved it down. Tossed the bag on the table and headed for the study.
By the time he finished going through his emails, it was almost midnight.
Still no knock, no coffee, no cup of milk—not even a glass of water.
For some reason, the silence felt wrong. He didn’t like it.
Pressing his lips together, he got up, showered, and opened the bedroom door.
It was dark inside, only the soft moonlight spilling across the bed. He could make out a small bump under the covers.
Jasmine wasn’t asleep—she could clearly feel the familiar presence beside her.
Without a word, she rolled over and climbed onto him. Her hand easily slid under his silk sleep shirt.
“Jasmine! What the hell are you doing?”
Marshall grabbed her wrist hard, the sudden movement tugging at a wound on his arm, making it sting.
She bit back a gasp, but her laugh came low and sultry, her bare legs under the nightgown slowly coiling around his waist...