I wasn’t supposed to be on that plane.
Not with them, anyway.
My ex, Dariel, had custody for the week and was taking our daughter, Lyla, to visit his sister in Denver. I knew the trip was happening, but what he didn’t know—what no one knew—was that I’d booked myself a seat on the same flight.
Call it paranoia, or maybe just mother’s instinct. Something felt off. Dariel had been acting weird—too polite, too agreeable—ever since the custody hearing didn’t go his way. And Lyla? She’d mentioned “a big surprise” Daddy was planning.
So yeah, I booked the last seat I could get, back row, opposite side. I wore a hat and kept my head low as they boarded. When Lyla smiled and gave those double thumbs up from the aisle seat, I felt a lump in my throat. She had no idea I was just a few rows away, watching, trying to act normal.Read More Below
