The evening breeze drifted through the airport parking lot, and the rows of cars gleamed beneath the overhead lights flickering on one by one.

Kataleya stood among the vehicles, clutching a small bag. Inside was a dinner box she had cooked herself that afternoon for her husband — Arkana's favorite chicken soup. She smiled, remembering how he always said her soup was the best thing she made.

But when she thought about how rarely he came home on time these past few months, the smile faded. Arkana blamed his packed flight schedule. Leya never questioned it — being a pilot was like that.

She knew that world intimately, because she had once lived in it too. The sky, the cockpit, the roar of engines, the runway lights stretching out like earthbound stars — all of it had been her life. Until she surrendered everything for Arkana, her husband.

A familiar voice snapped Leya from her thoughts. She turned, and there in the parking lot stood Arkana beside his black car. He wore his Captain's uniform — sharp, impeccable. A dark blazer with gold stripes on the shoulders glinting under the lights. Once, that Captain's uniform had almost been hers.

Her mouth opened to call out to him, but it closed again when she noticed a woman standing far too close. From the uniform, she was a young flight attendant. Her hair was pinned neatly, and a flirtatious smile played across her lips.

Leya didn't move. She was only a few meters away, but far enough to remain invisible in the shadow of a car. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but their words came through painfully clear.

"Captain Arkana, if we keep doing this... your wife will get angry." The flight attendant's voice dripped with coy affection as she pressed herself against him.

Arkana laughed softly, his eyes narrowing with cool indifference. He leaned casually against the car. "She won't find out."

"What if she comes to pick you up?" The woman giggled.

"Not a chance. She's busy taking care of our kid at home." Arkana shrugged, utterly dismissive.

Kataleya lowered her gaze and gripped the food bag tighter. But the conversation didn't stop. The woman stroked Arkana's chest.

"You're really bold, Captain. If I were her, I'd never let my husband be around another woman."

Arkana laughed again, louder this time. "If you were her, you never would've had the chance to marry me in the first place."

The flight attendant frowned. "What do you mean?"

"She used to be beautiful. She was a great pilot too. But now... she doesn't even have time to take care of herself. She looks terrible — I lose all interest just looking at her." Arkana's tone dripped with contempt.

His words hit like a slap across the face. Leya stared at her reflection in a nearby car window — hair pulled back in a simple tie, body no longer as slim as before she'd given birth, clothes plain and practical. But that wasn't what made her chest tighten. What cut deepest was that Arkana knew exactly why she looked the way she did — and he was mocking her for it.

"So, you don't love her anymore?" the flight attendant asked.

Arkana was silent for a few seconds, then gave a thin smile. "Love? I married her because she gave up her pilot's seat for me."

His tone was casual, as if he were discussing something utterly trivial.

The flight attendant's eyes went wide. "Seriously, Captain? So all this time, you never loved her?"

"That's right. If she hadn't withdrawn from the captain selection back then, I probably never would've gotten the position I have now." Arkana grinned.

Leya's heartbeat hammered so loud she could feel it in her skull. She remembered that day with perfect clarity — the day she signed her resignation letter, the day she turned to Arkana with a smile and said:

"Take the captain's seat. I don't mind."

Because she had believed that if Arkana was happy, she would be happy too.

"Besides, looking at her now, sometimes I think... I rushed into this marriage." Arkana spoke again.

The flight attendant covered her mouth in feigned surprise, but her eyes sparkled. "Well then, what about us?"

Arkana didn't answer with words. He pulled the woman closer and kissed her.

The dinner box inside Leya's bag suddenly felt impossibly heavy. The chicken soup, still warm, meant nothing anymore. The night wind blew cold, but what made her shiver wasn't the air — it was the bitter truth she had just witnessed.

Six years. She had given up the sky for a man like Arkana. Became a housewife. Managed the home, cooked, cleaned, raised their child alone — because Arkana always insisted they live simply, so there was never a housekeeper, let alone a babysitter. And now he treated her like a burden, claiming he had never loved her.

Leya closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she pulled the dinner box from her bag, stared at the soup container briefly, then tossed it into a trash can without hesitation.

"I will make you regret this, you bastard!" Her eyes blazed.

Arkana opened his car door, and that was when his gaze met Leya's cold stare.

"Leya...?" His face changed instantly.

The flight attendant turned too, her expression draining of color.

She walked toward them with measured steps. No tears on her face. Not even anger — but it was precisely that calm that made Arkana visibly nervous.

"Leya, how long have you been here?" he asked.

Leya stopped a few paces from Arkana, her eyes sharp as glass. "Long enough to hear every word."

The flight attendant quickly backed away and hurried off without daring to look at Leya. Now it was just the two of them. Arkana rubbed the back of his neck.

"Leya, this isn't what you think."

"And what exactly do you think I'm thinking?" Leya asked quietly, but her piercing gaze made Arkana squirm.

Arkana opened his mouth, then closed it again because he had no answer.

Leya gave a thin smile, but there was nothing warm in it. "Relax. I'm not angry."

Arkana exhaled, visibly relieved.

"But I finally understand something," Leya continued.

The man raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Her gaze dropped to the Captain's uniform Arkana wore, then shifted to the gold stripes that had almost been hers.

"Everything you have now — it used to be mine." Her voice was steady, her eyes deep.

"What are you talking about, Leya?"

She locked eyes with her husband and smiled — a cold, razor-edged smile. "Tomorrow, I'm filing for divorce."

Arkana's face twisted. He gritted his teeth. "Leya, don't joke around! That's not funny!"

"I'm not joking." Her heart turned to ice as she stared at the man she had once loved with everything she had — now with nothing but contempt. "One more thing. From now on... I'm taking back what should have been mine. I'm taking back my sky."

"Leya! You—"

Without waiting for his reply, Leya turned and walked away with her chin held high. In the distance, the runway lights blazed bright, as if calling her home.

The house she had shared with Arkana for six years of marriage was silent when Leya opened the door. Before leaving earlier, she had dropped their son off at her parents' place.

The living room light was still on, illuminating their child's toys scattered across the floor. Normally she would have tidied them up right away, but tonight Leya just stood there. Her mind was still flooded with images of her husband's betrayal in the airport parking lot. She drew a deep breath and walked toward the small room at the back of the house — a storage room.

She flipped the light on and the room filled with a warm glow. Old boxes were neatly stacked on wooden shelves, and in the corner sat a large black suitcase. Without hesitation, she walked straight to it and pulled the zipper open.

The moment the suitcase opened, something she had left behind long ago reappeared. A white pilot's uniform with gold stripes on the shoulders. A pilot's cap. A small wing badge. For six years, she had buried them all.

She picked up the white uniform and held it up. The fabric was still in perfect condition, just like before. Standing before a small mirror on the wall, she pressed the uniform against her body. The woman in the reflection stared back — face more mature now, visibly exhausted. But there was something far more powerful than the weariness: resolve.

She exhaled and touched her own face. "So this... is what you call ugly, Arkana? Fine. Just you wait."

Carrying the suitcase and uniform into the main house, she had just set them down when the front door swung open. Footsteps sounded, and a few seconds later Arkana appeared. He stopped the moment he saw the uniform in Leya's hands, his expression souring immediately.

"What are you doing?!"

Leya didn't look at him when she answered. "Isn't it obvious?"

Arkana scoffed. "What's the point of digging up that old uniform?"

"This isn't some old thing — it's my life that you told me to throw away after we got married!" Leya's voice was cold.

Arkana let out an irritated sigh. "Leya, stop being dramatic. Enough!"

Leya finally turned to face him, her gaze sharp. "Dramatic?"

"Leya, what you saw at the parking lot wasn't what you think." Arkana tried lying again.

A short laugh escaped her. "You still want to lie, after I caught you in the act? D'you think I'm stupid?"

"She and I were just messing around."

Leya took one step forward, her stare unblinking. "I may not have found proof that you're sleeping with that woman. But Arka... that kiss wasn't just messing around."

Arkana went silent, but only for a split second. Then he shrugged as if none of it mattered. "You're blowing something trivial out of proportion."

"Trivial?" Leya laughed. "If I kissed another man, would that be trivial to you?"

Arkana's eyes flashed with shock, and he seized Leya's arm. "Watch your mouth! It's different for men and women! If you ever fool around behind my back with another man, I'll make you regret it! You are my wife — you belong to me!"

Leya wrenched her arm free of his grip. "Too bad that status is about to expire. We'll be strangers after the divorce. I've had enough of running this household alone, keeping this marriage together. While you were out there playing around with other women!"

"So you wanna go back to being a pilot?" Arkana sneered, raking his gaze over Leya's body with naked disdain. "You left that world six years ago. Airlines don't need a pilot who's been grounded that long — especially not with a body like yours."

His words landed like a punch, but not a muscle in Leya's face moved. She simply gave a thin smile.

"Good that you think that way. Because when I come back as the woman I used to be, I want to see your face the moment you realize... how wrong you were."

Arkana laughed loudly. "Leya, you're way too full of yourself."

"No. I just stopped belittling myself for your sake." Leya's voice was steel.

Silence filled the room.

"We're getting divorced. Expect the papers." Not a trace of doubt in her voice.

Arkana glared at her. "You're serious? You think life out there is easy? The aviation world is brutal."

She didn't answer. Just held his stare.

A few seconds passed, then Arkana shrugged. "Fine. If that's what you want. Don't come crawling back to me."

"Don't worry — I would never go back to a bastard like you." Leya smiled, cold as winter.

That night, Leya truly left. She dragged a suitcase packed with her belongings out of the house she had lived in for years. In the front room, Arkana sat watching. His gaze was cold as Leya walked past him.

"Leya, if you apologize right now... I'll forgive you." Arkana's tone was dripping with condescension as he leaned back, casual, as though nothing had happened. "After that, you forget everything you saw today. Go back to being the wife you've always been — stay home, take care of me and our son. Show some self-awareness. You've been living off my money this whole time."

Leya stopped. She was silent for a few seconds. Then she smiled, full of mockery, her sharp gaze cutting straight through her husband. "You're unbelievable. You should be the one apologizing to me. And remember this — if the day ever comes that you beg me to come back to you... it'll be too late."

Back straight, she pulled her suitcase forward and walked out of that house without looking back. Only one suitcase, nothing else. This was temporary. Everything she was entitled to — she would claim in court. The marital assets and custody of their child.

A ride was already booked. Before long, a car pulled up at the curb. She got in without a word, and it drove away from the house.

Behind her, Arkana stood with both fists clenched tight, face flushed with a fury he could barely contain. But beneath the anger was another feeling he couldn't quite name — something unfamiliar, pressing against his chest. It surfaced because of one thing he hadn't anticipated: Leya had actually left.

"Tch! She won't last. She'll come crawling back soon enough!" he muttered.

The journey wasn't far. Her parents' house was still in the same city. When the car stopped at their front door, it was already late. Leya stepped out and walked to the entrance. Before she could knock, the door opened. Her mother stood there — no questions, because Leya had already explained everything over the phone.

Her mother simply smiled gently and pulled her daughter into a tight embrace. "Sweetheart, this will always be your home. You can come back anytime."

She just held her mother, saying nothing. A few seconds later, her father appeared. He looked at his daughter with quiet understanding and softly stroked her head.

"Everything's going to be all right. We'll always be here for you," he said, full of tenderness.

And that was when her walls crumbled. The tears she had held back since that afternoon finally fell. She wept in her mother's arms, pouring out all the pain she had been carrying. Her mother cried too, and even her father couldn't hold back his tears at the sight of his only daughter broken like this.

After a while, the crying slowly faded. Drawing a long breath, Leya walked down the hallway of the house she had known since childhood. At the end of the corridor, a bedroom door stood slightly ajar. A soft, dim glow spilled from inside. She pushed the door open gently.

Her son — her son with Arkana — lay fast asleep on the bed, hugging his favorite toy airplane, the one he carried everywhere.

Leya walked over and sat on the edge of the mattress, pulling up the blanket that had nearly slipped off his small body. Arsen's face was so peaceful, so innocent. He knew nothing about the adult world collapsing around him. Her expression softened. She leaned down and kissed his forehead.

"Sleep tight, my little champion," she whispered, then lay down beside her son.

But her eyes didn't close. She stared up at the ceiling with a gaze full of determination and calculation.

"I will prove that I can still fly high in the sky!"

* * *

That morning, the sky was clear above the Nusantara Flight Academy. Small training planes sat in neat rows on the apron. The drone of engines from the hangars overlapped with the footsteps of trainees moving back and forth in their training uniforms. Leya stood at the academy gates. Six years ago, she had walked away from aviation without looking back. Today she returned — as someone who had come to reclaim her place.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside. A few trainees glanced at her in passing — their expressions indifferent, nothing more than idle curiosity at a woman who looked noticeably older than most of the students there. She headed straight for the administration building, where a female staff member was typing at a computer.

Leya stood before the desk, her face composed. "Excuse me. I'd like to re-enroll in the captain certification program."

The staff member stopped typing, looked up, and studied Leya from head to toe.

"Name?"

"Kataleya Sarasmita."

The woman typed something into the computer. A few seconds later, her expression shifted.

"Kataleya Sarasmita?" The staffer looked at Leya again. "Our records show you withdrew six years ago."

"That's correct," Leya answered.

"Why come back now?"

"Because I want to reclaim my future and embrace the sky again." There was no hesitation in Leya's voice.

The staffer paused, then spoke with a note of doubt. "This program is typically for active pilots looking to upgrade to captain."

"Then consider me active again."

The woman didn't look convinced, but eventually rose from her seat. "One moment."

She disappeared into a back office, and a few minutes later a middle-aged man emerged. He wore an instructor's pilot uniform and studied Leya with a furrowed brow.

"Kataleya Sarasmita. You stopped flying six years ago. The aviation world moves fast — a pilot who's been out that long usually doesn't come back."

"I'll be the first exception. I'll put in the work." Leya's reply was steady.

Before he could continue, laughter erupted from behind. A group of trainee pilots had just entered the room. One of them spotted Leya and whispered to his friend.

"She's applying too?"

"Seriously?"

"She looks like somebody's mom."

The whispers carried, and some of them openly snickered.

"This program is intense — it's not some hobby course. Especially with a face and body that far from the mark," one of them said, his mockery aimed squarely at Leya's appearance.

Their laughter grew louder. Every word landed, but she didn't respond — just kept her eyes on the instructor. "Is there a problem with my age?"

The instructor shifted uncomfortably. "It's not about age — it's about capability."

"Then test me." Leya's gaze was absolute conviction.

A few trainees behind her laughed again. "Is she serious? Six years grounded and she wants to go straight for the captain exam?"

"This is hilarious!" another chimed in.

Leya finally turned to face them, her stare razor-sharp. "If you're all done laughing, you'd better start studying. Don't waste your time just to put someone else down."

The room went dead silent. One trainee scoffed, but in the end, nobody said a word.

The instructor let out a long breath. "All right. We'll start with a simulator test. If you fail, don't waste our time again."

A firm nod. "No problem."

She signed the registration form without hesitation. But as she finished and turned to leave the desk, her eyes met those of someone standing at the far end of the room.

A tall man stood watching her with keen interest. His pilot's uniform was simple, but the way he carried himself set him apart from everyone else. Sharp eyes that took in everything — and unlike the others, he hadn't laughed. Hadn't shown a trace of disdain. He simply watched with an expression that was hard to read, as though assessing something.

For a few seconds they held each other's gaze. Then he looked away, as if not wanting to seem like he was staring. She didn't know who he was, but something about the way he looked at her was different.