I expected turbulence in the air, not in my marriage. One moment we were boarding with twin toddlers and diaper bags, and the next, my husband Eric vanished behind the business-class curtain with a smug grin. I was left juggling two fussy babies, a collapsing stroller, and a juice stain the size of Florida on my jeans. Meanwhile, he texted me emojis and bragged about warm towels. I just sighed, filmed a chaotic video for his excited parents, and braced for the longest flight of my life.
Landing didn’t make things easier—until we reached baggage claim. Eric strutted out like he’d been at a spa, only to be met with silence from his usually cheerful dad. Later that night, I overheard his father having a serious talk with him about responsibility and family priorities. The next morning, things felt different—calmer, but tense. Eric was unusually quiet and strangely helpful.
