My husband thought he could book first class for himself and his mom, leaving me stuck in economy with the kids. But I wasn’t about to let him get away with that.

Let’s just say his “luxury” flight got a little bumpy, and it turned into a lesson he’ll never forget.

I’m Sophie, and let me introduce you to my husband, Clark. You know the type—workaholic, always stressed, and convinced his job is the most important thing on earth?

Sure, I get that his work is demanding, but it’s not like raising kids is a walk in the park. Anyway, what he pulled recently was next-level selfish.

We were planning to visit his family for the holidays, a chance to relax and make some fun memories with the kids. Clark offered to handle the flight bookings, and I thought, “Great, one less thing to worry about!” But I had no idea what was coming.

At the airport, as I wrangled our toddler and a diaper bag, I asked, “Clark, where are our seats?” He was glued to his phone, barely paying attention. “Oh, um, about that…” he muttered, avoiding eye contact.

A knot formed in my stomach. “What do you mean, ‘about that’?”

Finally, he looked up and gave me that sheepish grin I’ve come to dread. “Well, I managed to snag an upgrade for me and Mom to first class. You know how she gets on long flights, and I really need to rest.”

I blinked, waiting for him to say he was joking. But no punchline came. I was stuck in economy with both kids while he and his mom enjoyed first class. The audacity! When I confronted him, he shrugged, “It’s just a few hours, Soph. You’ll be fine.”

As if on cue, his mother Nadia, all smiles, rolled up with her designer luggage. “Oh Clark, are we ready for our luxurious flight?” she smirked, basking in her victory.

They strolled off toward the first-class lounge, leaving me behind with two cranky kids and a burning desire for revenge. “Oh, it’ll be luxurious, alright,” I thought, as a deliciously petty plan started to take shape.

When we boarded, I could see Clark and Nadia already reclining in their plush seats, sipping champagne. Meanwhile, I wrestled with carry-ons and settled the kids. As I buckled them in, I remembered something—his wallet. Earlier, while we went through security, I had quietly slipped it into my purse. Now, it was time to have a little fun.

A couple of hours into the flight, the kids were asleep, and I had a front-row seat to Clark’s first-class indulgence. I watched as he ordered a lavish meal, complete with top-shelf liquor. But when it came time to pay, I saw him start to panic. He frantically searched his pockets, realizing his wallet was missing.

I could see the flight attendant standing there, waiting for payment, as Clark gestured wildly, his face turning pale. “But I had it earlier… Can’t I just pay when we land?”

I bit back a smile and continued munching on my popcorn. This in-flight entertainment was better than anything on the screen.

Moments later, Clark made his way down the aisle to economy, looking like a kid who’d been caught stealing cookies. “Soph, I can’t find my wallet. Do you have any cash on you?”

I put on my best concerned face. “Oh no, that’s terrible! How much do you need?”

“Uh, about $1500,” he whispered, clearly embarrassed.

I stifled a laugh. “$1500? What did you order, a five-course meal and a bottle of vintage wine?”

“Look, it’s not important. Do you have it or not?”

I pretended to rummage through my purse. “I’ve got $200. Will that help?”

The look on his face was priceless. “I guess it’ll have to do,” he muttered.

As he turned to leave, I couldn’t resist. “Hey, doesn’t your mom have her credit card? I’m sure she’d be happy to cover it.”

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks—he’d have to ask his mother to bail him out. His first-class experience was officially ruined.

The rest of the flight was delightfully awkward. Clark and Nadia sat in stony silence, their luxury experience thoroughly tarnished. Meanwhile, I enjoyed my economy seat with a sense of sweet satisfaction.

As we disembarked, Clark was still muttering about his lost wallet, patting his pockets for the hundredth time. “Are you sure you didn’t leave it in first class?” I asked innocently.

“I already checked,” he growled, frustration written all over his face.

I smiled to myself as we walked out of the airport, his wallet safely tucked away in my purse. I wasn’t about to let him off the hook just yet. A little creative justice never hurt anyone.

So, next time your partner tries to leave you behind in economy while they live it up in first class, remember—a little turbulence might be just the lesson they need. After all, we’re all in this flight of life together.