A forbidden love blooms between James and his wife’s sister Lydia, their feelings for each other growing despite every social boundary meant to keep them apart. There is just one problem, how do you cope with a love that was fated to fail from the very beginning.
James had learned how to read the silence in his home. Some nights, it was hollow, the kind that echoed through the unused facilities of their condo when Jamie stayed late at the office again.
Other nights, it was sharp, filled with the quiet clinks of utensils on plates during dinner, with eyes fixed on phones instead of each other. James would be scrolling through tik tok, while Jamie will be reading company annual reports and replying emails.
The love hadn’t disappeared. It had simply… faded, like condensation on a plane window.
He rinsed his coffee cup and glanced at the clock on the oven. 7:42 p.m. Jamie wouldn’t be home till after ten. Another regional board meeting. Another glass of wine alone in the living room.
James had stopped asking how her day went, not out of spite, but purely for self-preservation. He had learned that her answers rarely required his presence.
What is there to ask when the replies you get are always;
‘ok’
‘good’
‘no’
‘yes’
‘late’
One word answers hurt, perhaps more when viewed on a screen.
James looked at the wedding pictures sitting on the TV console. He has been married to Jamie for more than 3 years and it still felt weird waking up beside her in the morning.
It was a rushed marriage.
They had an accident, Jamie was pregnant one moment, and then she was not. A miscarriage.
That loss,the beginning of their slow, silent separation.
His phone vibrated. A message from crew scheduling.
Upcoming Flight Assignment: NRT88 | SIN–Tokyo | Departing Friday 0635 hrs
He tapped to open the full roster. Familiar names scrolled by — Kelvin, Adilah, Hana. Then his thumb paused.
L. Teo
Lydia.
James sat up and did a double take at the name.
Lydia Teo.
His heart skipped a beat and there was only one question on his mind.
How many Lydia Teo did Singapore airlines hire?
Halfway across the island in Sengkang, Lydia sat cross-legged on the living room floor, folding laundry that didn’t belong to her. A shirt still faintly smelled of the woman’s perfume, sweet, artificial, nothing like hers. She stared at the fabric, fingers stilling for a moment.
Ben had stopped hiding the affairs years ago. What surprised her was how unbothered she had become.
She no longer asked questions. No longer waited up.
The version of herself who once cried into pillowcases felt like a ghost, someone she vaguely remembered but had long since buried.
Her phone buzzed beside the laundry basket.
Flight Assignment: NRT88 | SIN–Tokyo | Friday
She scanned the crew list automatically, names she’d worked with before.
Then:
J. Koh
Her breath caught slightly.
James.
She hadn’t seen him in months. Always on different routes, different schedules. They were in-laws, technically, connected only by family gatherings and polite conversations around festive dinners.
But she had always liked James. He was gentle, observant. The kind of man who asked how you were and actually waited for the answer.
She remembered a time, years ago, at a family barbecue. Everyone was loud, drinking and laughing. She had gotten a cut while opening a stubborn can of soda. No one noticed, except James. He had quietly brought her a plaster and a cold towel without saying a word.
He had simply smiled and sat back down.
It wasn’t much. But in a life of surface-level smiles and hollow affection, Lydia had learned that it was often the smallest gestures that stayed.
She stood up slowly, reaching for her flight prep folder.
Tokyo.
She hadn’t been there in a while.
Back in his condo, James refreshed the crew list three times, as if it might change.
L. Teo
There it was. Still there. He wondered if she had seen it too.
He knew Lydia was married, just as he was.
They had never shared more than a handful of casual conversations, but there was always something between them.
A softness. A sense of being seen. The kind you only noticed in hindsight.
They work for the same airline, but they have never flown together before. Not even once.
The Tokyo flight was long enough for conversation, short enough to keep boundaries.
He told himself it was nothing.
Just a familiar face. Nothing more.
But his heart stirred, just enough to remind him he was still alive.
He unlocked his phone and opened Instagram.
Lydia’s profile was still public.
A series of photos filled the screen, snapshots from cities, soft smiles behind masks, skies above clouds, and one candid picture of Lydia laughing, wind in her hair at a street corner café in Madrid.
James didn’t even realise he was smiling.
Back in Sengkang, Lydia sat on the toilet bowl, hair still damp from her recent shower.
She reached for her phone, opened Facebook, and scrolled , not aimlessly, but searching.
There he was.
James at a beach in Sydney. James holding a tray of pastries mid-flight. James blurry in the background of a group crew photo.
She paused at one where he was staring out of a plane window.
One would have expected some nice captions about flying or travelling but instead it read,
‘Flight to Perth with 65 kids on board…@#$@!’
It was a private post, visible only to close family and friends.
And Lydia laughed.
She stared longer than she meant to.
And smiled, just a little.
Just a little.
10100 words
Keep the love stories coming James. It’s always nice to read them.
I’m glad you enjoyed it!