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He had upgraded himself and assumed I’d “be fine” handling two toddlers in economy. In that moment, disbelief gave way to something colder: the quiet realization that he truly didn’t see how unfair that choice was. The flight itself was exactly what you’d expect when one parent is left to do the work of two.
Ava spilled juice on me before takeoff, Mason cried through half the safety announcement, and the passenger beside me quickly asked to be moved. Meanwhile, my phone buzzed with a cheerful message from my husband about how comfortable his seat was and how great the food tasted. I didn’t respond.
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