I boarded my husband's private jet and his secretary was in my seat, feeding him peeled orange. His mother told me to be considerate. I stepped off. Then the crew asked whether I wanted the flight cancelled.

He had begun treating it as something he was owed.

I did not notice the change happen, because that change never happens on a particular Tuesday. There is no day on which gratitude becomes expectation.

What there is instead is a slow reduction in how often it gets mentioned. In 2020 he said thank you about once a week. In 2021 it was at dinners, to other people. By 2023 it had stopped being a thing that was said at all, and I had stopped noticing that it had.

And then he said, in front of all of them: do you have to make a scene in front of my team? Remember your place.

I had not raised my voice. I had not asked her to move. I had not said one word in that cabin.

I had put my bag down on the armrest of the seat across the aisle. That is the entirety of what I had done.