He Canceled My Ticket for Her Again, So I Bought My Way Home Novel – Chapter 1 A few minutes before boarding my flight home for Thanksgiving, I received a cancellation notification from Expedia. My heart dropped. I immediately called Julian Blackwood. Once. Twice. Five times. On the sixth call, he finally answered. “Serena’s spending Thanksgiving alone this year. She’s been really down lately, so I’m taking her out of state for a few days to get her mind off things. I canceled your ticket. You can visit your parents another time.” I froze. Seven years ago, when I married Julian and moved across the country to be with him, we made a promise. Every other Thanksgiving, we’d spend with my family. But somehow, every year there was always an excuse. A family emergency.
His mother needing help. Something urgent at work. Or Serena Sterling. This time, he had canceled the discounted ticket I’d spent three weeks stalking online just to grab. For Serena. My phone rang again. Mom. The moment I answered, I heard the hopeful caution in her voice. “Clara? Sweetheart… are you coming home this year? Your father and I haven’t seen you and Julian in so long.” My throat tightened. I fought back tears. “I’m sorry, Mom. Something came up and I don’t think…” Before I could finish, she cut me off with forced cheerfulness. “That’s okay! There’s always next year.” I could hear the disappointment she was trying so hard to hide. “Your dad just finished smoking the turkey and ribs. We’ll overnight everything to you in insulated packaging.” A second later, photos appeared in our family iMessage group.
[Dad: Thanksgiving is officially ready!] The dining table was packed with my favorite foods. Smoked turkey. Maple-glazed ribs. Sweet potato casserole. Everything I’d grown up eating. Everything I’d missed. Tears streamed down my face. Without hesitation, I purchased a ticket for a flight three days later. This time, I wouldn’t let Julian disappoint my parents again. Not because of him. Not anymore. … When I got home, I quietly packed my things. I folded sweaters. Sorted documents. Set aside anything important. Julian didn’t come home until nearly midnight. The scent of another woman’s perfume clung to his clothes. He wrapped his arms around me from behind. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Don’t be mad. I promise I’ll go home with you next year.” Next year. Always next year. I’d been married to him for seven years. I’d heard “next year” for six. Every time I tried to visit my family, something happened.
His mother needed help. Serena was scared to stay alone. Serena was having a rough week. Serena needed him. There was always a Serena. Seeing me stay silent, Julian pulled a silver necklace from his pocket. “Come on, don’t be upset. Let me put this on you.” Instinctively, I stepped back. “No thanks.” He blinked. Then watched as I continued packing winter clothes into my suitcase. His voice sharpened. “Clara Winslow, do you have to do this every time you’re upset?” “I’ve told you before, Serena is like a little sister to me. Her parents are away all the time. She doesn’t have anyone else she can rely on.” His frustration grew. “There’s nothing going on between us. We don’t need to keep having this argument.” I shoved another sweater into my luggage. “I can’t wear silver.” His expression changed instantly. The irritation vanished. “…That’s my fault.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Forget the necklace. I’ll buy you that designer bag you’ve been looking at.” “Do whatever you want.” Julian exhaled heavily. “Seriously? Are you still upset over something this small? I’m exhausted, Clara.” Something this small.
My problems were always small. If Serena scraped her elbow, he’d rush her to the ER. If Serena called, he’d drop everything. Every single time. I swallowed the bitterness in my chest. “I’m not angry.” I zipped the suitcase shut. “There’s no point.” “I’m just tired.” “I don’t want to fight.” Julian stared at me. For the first time, he seemed genuinely caught off guard by my calmness. Then his phone rang. A custom ringtone. Serena. He glanced at me guiltily and immediately declined the call. “Clara, no matter what happens tonight, I’m not leaving.” He walked toward me. “I’ll stay with you.” My hands paused. For a moment, hope stirred somewhere deep inside me. Then he rushed into the kitchen. “I’ll make your favorite. Garlic parmesan shrimp.” Yet instead of cooking, he lingered near the doorway, pacing back and forth. Waiting. Listening. Checking his phone. I let out a bitter laugh. “Go.” He looked up. “Go see her.” Immediately, he crossed the room and hugged me. “No. I said I’m staying.” His phone exploded with notifications.
Call after call. Message after message. He looked at me, then powered his phone off. But minutes later, he was pacing through the living room again. Restless. Distracted. Constantly glancing toward the dark screen. I sighed. “Just go.” Relief flashed across his face before he could hide it. He tried to sound reluctant. “Clara, you’re the one telling me to go.” The second the words left his mouth, he rushed toward the door. As he left, I heard him turning his phone back on. His voice softened instantly. “Don’t be scared, Serena. I’m on my way.” The front door slammed shut. The clock struck midnight. Today was our seventh wedding anniversary. He’d forgotten. Again. There was a time when Julian couldn’t stand being apart from me. Now all it took was one phone call from Serena. I pressed a hand over my mouth. Tears slipped silently down my cheeks.