The Third Wheel Honeymoon

My fingers brushed over the flight tickets displayed on the phone screen—three economy class tickets to S Island, with the departure date exactly coinciding with the days of my honeymoon trip with Jeremy Trent. Besides the two of us, the third ticket was booked under the name "Nina Lindsay." Jeremy, dressed in the gray loungewear I had just bought, still carried the profile I once adored. "Jeremy," my voice was calmer than I had anticipated, "why are there three tickets?" When he turned around, a faint trace of guilt flickered across his face, though it was overshadowed by an unmistakable air of self-righteousness. He avoided my gaze. "You know, Nina's brother once saved my life." Of course I know. Jeremy mentioned Nina's brother more than once, saying he was his lifesaver, but unfortunately, he died in an accident several years ago. Because of that, he has always been especially protective of Nina, going on and on about how she was like a sister to him. But I never expected that protection to cross the boundaries of our marriage and intrude on our honeymoon. "Saving your life is not a reason for you to bring her along on our honeymoon." Jeremy furrowed his brow. "Layla, don't be so petty. Nina's been in a bad mood lately, alone at home with no one to talk to. What's the big deal if we take her out to get her mind off things?" "Getting her mind off things is fine," I said, locking eyes with him and pronouncing each word carefully, "but not during our honeymoon." "Layla Wayne!" Jeremy's voice rose several tones. "I've already promised Nina. I can't just break my word, can I? Her brother asked me to look after her before he died." He invoked the name of his lifesaver as if it were an impenetrable shield. "I don't agree." I took back my phone, my tone firm. Jeremy seemed not to hear me and continued packing his suitcase: "The plane tickets are already bought and non-refundable. Layla, try to understand me, and Nina too. She's really pitiful." I didn't argue anymore. No matter how much I argued, in the face of his stubbornness and so-called "morality," it all seemed like my pettiness and lack of understanding. I turned and walked into the bedroom, opened my phone, launched Instagram, and looked up Nina's Ins. She hadn't blocked me from her Ins; it was filled entirely with interactions with Jeremy. There's a photo of two people dining together, with gifts from Jeremy to her—from lipstick to handbags, all quite expensive. There's also a post captioned, "With Jeremy around, I fear nothing," alongside a picture of Jeremy carrying her shopping bags from behind. I took a deep breath, opened photo after photo, and hit the screenshot button. After taking the screenshots, I opened another chat window—the contact was Eileen Houston. Eileen Houston is my college best friend, now a lawyer—sharp, capable, and has always been my strongest support. I typed, "Eileen, help me prepare a divorce agreement." Not long after I sent the message, Eileen called me back. "Layla? Why do you suddenly want a divorce?" On the other end, Eileen's voice was anxious. Holding the phone, my voice was a little hoarse: "He wants to take Nina with us on our honeymoon."