The Hidden Test Result

Outside the porthole, the clouds spread like congealed cotton; my fingertips brushed the cool metal of the boarding ladder's handrail. A gentle announcement from the purser reminded first-class passengers to fasten their seat belts. I stood at the end of the jet bridge, watching Leo Jones disembark from the plane. He wore a bespoke suit, the collar adorned with the Jones Airlines emblem, his posture upright. Only the cuff of his suit bore a faint trace of perfume, not the woody fragrance I usually wore. I stepped forward and naturally took his briefcase. "Thank you for your hard work, Leo." He responded with a hum, his gaze sweeping over me without lingering. A flight attendant swiftly caught up from behind, handing him a document. The girl's cheeks flushed slightly as her fingertips inadvertently brushed the back of his hand. Leo Jones took the document, a faint smile touching the corner of his lips. That smile—I had not seen it on his face for a long time. After getting into the car, the driver started it smoothly. I watched the swiftly receding street scenes outside the window, without speaking. Leo Jones leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed, his fingertips lightly tapping on his knee. "Next week's flight route, assign Vivian Lincoln to fly overseas." He spoke abruptly. Vivian Lincoln is the flight attendant who just handed over the documents. That overseas route is among the company's most lucrative international lines. "Alright." I nodded in response. There was neither questioning nor argument. This is the fifth year of my marriage, and I have long grown accustomed to such compromises. Outsiders all praise me as Mrs. Jones, a woman of great understanding, saying that I care for Leo Jones with meticulous attention. Only I know how many silent nights lie behind this supposed 'understanding.' The first time I discovered his betrayal was in the second year of our marriage. I found a lipstick that did not belong to me in the pocket of his suit. The shade was bold, completely different from the muted colors I have worn for years. When I confronted him with the lipstick, he simply said it had been left behind by a client. I did not expose him; I simply threw the lipstick into the trash. Since then, similar 'accidents' became increasingly frequent. Hotel expense records, unfamiliar scents of perfume, even mistaken phone calls from women to my home. Each time, I chose to endure in silence. I rose from a lowly flight attendant to marry Leo Jones, once the envy of many. I could not afford to lose this 'glamour,' nor could I allow the Jones family to become the subject of ridicule. Until six months ago, when the matter was brought into the open. A flight attendant stormed into the company's VIP lounge, pointing a finger at Leo Jones's nose, crying and cursing. She claimed he had promised to divorce her but kept postponing it. At that moment, many clients and executives were present; the scene was extremely unpleasant. Leo Jones's face turned pale; he remained silent, standing in place. I hurried over, took the girl's hand, and spoke to her gently to console her. I explained that it was a misunderstanding—that the girl had misinterpreted Leo Jones's intentions entirely on her own. I told her the company would arrange a better position for her and hoped she would cease causing trouble. In the end, on Leo Jones's behalf, I gave the girl a sum of compensation to dismiss her. Upon leaving the VIP lounge, Leo Jones uttered only one sentence: "Thank you." There was no remorse, no apology—only a matter-of-fact sense of entitlement. That night, I did not sleep at all. Sitting on the living room sofa, watching the moonlight outside the window, something inside me shattered. I thought I would cry, would break down, but I did not.