My husband, Tyler, has been a commercial pilot for almost nine years, but our 7-year-old son, Mason, had never actually been a passenger on a plane his dad was flying.

 

I wasn’t going to use our son to punish him.

 

I wasn’t going to make promises about the future that I couldn’t keep.

 

But I was done pretending that our marriage was fine simply becauseTyler was good at sounding convincing.

 

“I love you,” he said eventually.

 

I closed my eyes.

 

“Maybe you do, Tyler. But love without honesty isn’t enough to build a marriage on.”

 

“What am I supposed to do now?”

 

For the first time since the airport, his voice sounded genuinely lost.

 

“Start by telling the truth. To everyone. Including yourself.”

 

Then I ended the call.

 

Three weeks later, Tyler came to our house to see Mason.

 

He arrived without flowers, without excuses, and without Vanessa.

 

He sat across from our sonat the kitchen table and apologized.

 

Not for getting caught.