When I boarded my husband’s private jet, his secretary was sitting beside him in my usual seat, feeding him peeled oranges while his mother told me to be considerate. I didn’t argue.

with irritation.

As if I were the one interrupting something.

“Jasmine gets terrible airsickness,” he said. “I told her she could sit there. Go back to row five.”

His executive team was already seated around the cabin.

Everyone heard him.

Before I could say anything, my mother-in-law spoke from behind me.

“She worked with Aaron until three in the morning, Alyssa. The least you can do is show some consideration.”

I looked at the seat.

My seat.

The one beside my husband that I had occupied on dozens of trips.