The Sabotaged Flight My Wife Killed Me For Her First Love

My wife tampered with my paragliding gear. All so her first love could take home the championship. By the time I noticed the defect mid-air, it was already too late. In the final seconds of my life, I called her. Before I could even speak, she cut me off, her voice thick with annoyance. "Logan, can't you just be the bigger person for once?" "You've won so many gold medals already. Couldn't you just let Tristan win this one?" "The doctors said he has terminal cancer. He has less than a month to live. I promised to grant him this dying wish. After this, we’ll go back to living our normal lives." Surrounded by her callous complaints, I plummeted into the deep, untouched forest. While I fell to my death, she was already celebrating Tristan’s victory. What she didn't expect was that the event organizers, desperate to locate me, released the full aerial race footage. And our final phone call was about to be exposed to the entire world. During the paragliding championship, my wife, Samantha, secretly sabotaged my rig just so her ex, Tristan, could win. By the time I realized it mid-air, it was too late to deploy my reserve. I could only watch helplessly as the massive canopy dragged me down into the wilderness below. Right before I crashed, Samantha's indifferent voice still echoed in my ears. "Aren't you supposed to be the prodigy? Even with a rigged harness, you should still be able to take first place." After a flash of blinding agony, I slowly opened my eyes. Only then did I realize my body was translucent. I was floating in mid-air. Below me, cheers roared through the crowd at the podium ceremony. Samantha, acting as the event's emcee, beamed as she hung the gold medal around Tristan’s neck. She stood on her tiptoes to hug him, planting a sweet, lingering kiss on his cheek. When asked for his winner's speech, Tristan looked at Samantha and spoke with pride. "Standing on this podium is an absolute honor. I want to take this moment to thank Samantha. Without her daily support and dedication, I would never have returned to the sport, let alone won this gold!" Samantha covered her mouth in joyful shock, blushing like a smitten teenager. "It's all your own talent and hard work. I just couldn't bear to see you miss out on your dream." Even the reporters gushed over their "storybook romance." Watching them clasp their fingers tightly together on stage made my ghost-heart ache like it was being shredded with needles. Why? Samantha was my wife. And that gold medal belonged to me! In reality, I was the one whose dreams were shattered. I was the one dying with bitter regrets. I suddenly remembered this morning before I left the house. Samantha had grabbed my hand, telling me paragliding was too dangerous and begging me to forfeit. I had only chuckled, fondly ruffling her hair, promising I’d bring home the gold for her. Back then, I truly believed she was worried about my safety. Now I saw the truth. All she wanted was to clear the path for Tristan. Tristan and I had been fierce rivals ever since our rookie days. Whenever our names were on the same roster, it became the hottest betting match of the year. Countless fans placed massive wagers on us. Yet Tristan had never beaten me once. Not until three years ago, when he was caught taking performance-enhancing drugs before a major race and was handed a suspension, leaving the country in disgrace. Only then did our rivalry fade from the headlines. During those three years, I swept every major national title, becoming the top pilot in the sport, affectionately nicknamed "Peter Pan" by my fans. Even for today's race, the odds were overwhelmingly in my favor. Yet here they were, and I was nowhere to be found. The bettors in the stands were already rioting, demanding an explanation. How could an elite pilot in peak condition simply drop off the map? "Where is Logan? Make him come out and explain!" "Did he take a bribe to throw the match? How else could a scrub like Tristan beat Logan? Do you think we’re blind?!" As the host, Samantha had no choice but to step forward and smooth things over. "Please, everyone, calm down! Our race is completely fair and transparent. I promise you, the organizers will release the full flight footage and conduct strict medical checks on all athletes. We will not tolerate any rule violations!" Instead of calming the room, her words only stoked the flames. Right then, a staff member rushed out from backstage, visibly panicking. "A pilot suffered an equipment malfunction mid-flight! He likely crashed into the mountain wilderness. We've lost all contact with him!" The moment the words landed, the microphone slipped from Samantha’s fingers, crashing loudly onto the floor.I watched Samantha stare at the staff member in sheer panic. Her lips twitched like she wanted to say something, but she remained frozen in place. Studying the micro-expressions on her face, I didn't know whether to laugh or feel bitter. Hearing about a crash, the media went into a frenzy. Tristan’s upset victory was already huge news, but an athlete going missing was front-page material. Under the press's relentless badgering, the staff member reluctantly revealed: "It's still under investigation. Drone footage captured a purple glider. The missing athlete should be pilot number six." Hearing that, Samantha let out a massive sigh of relief. After all, everyone knew I always flew under my signature black wing. What they didn't know was that ten minutes before launch, I discovered a tear on my black canopy. Fearing it would compromise my safety, I swapped it for my purple backup. And when I switched it out, Tristan had seen me with his own eyes. Right now, Tristan stood quietly on the stage, his right hand idly rubbing the gold medal on his chest, a calculating glint in his eye. Because of the accident, the awards ceremony was cut short. Samantha led Tristan away, hurrying off the grounds. Once inside the car, she pulled out her phone and dialed my number. The automated voice told her my phone was turned off. Seeing her brow furrow, an indescribable feeling welled up inside me. I always turned my phone off during competitions, but the very second I touched down, I would power it back on and text her that I was safe. This was the only time—two whole hours after the race—that she had heard nothing from me. Samantha hesitated for a moment, then typed out a text. [Where are you? I told you I had my reasons. Stop being so dramatic.] Before she could hit send, Tristan leaned over. He smoothly slipped the phone from her fingers, cooing softly. "Come on, put your phone away. I booked a table to celebrate. We should have a drink together, shouldn't we?" Samantha’s frown didn't fade. "Where do you think Logan went?" "I only adjusted his release mechanism. With his skills, there's no way he'd end up in last place, right?" Tristan reached out and pinched Samantha’s cheek, his face completely innocent. "Logan is probably just throwing a tantrum. Since he couldn't get first place, he probably forfeited midway through. Let's just give him some space." Saying that, Tristan sighed, adopting a wounded, pitiful look. "It's all my fault. If it weren't for my illness, you wouldn't have messed with his gear for me. How about I go apologize and explain things to him later?" Hearing his sweet words, Samantha’s lingering worry completely vanished. "Don't say that. This has nothing to do with you! I know that with your talent and drive, winning gold was only a matter of time!" "Samantha, you're the only person in this whole world who truly cares about me." Tristan wrapped his arms around Samantha, whispering nauseating sweet-nothings into her ear. Floating outside the car window, watching them cuddle against each other, pure disgust churned in my gut. Samantha always claimed she wasn't the affectionate type and hated saying sweet words. She told me we weren't horny teenagers anymore and didn't need to be all over each other. Yet here she was in front of Tristan, acting like a woman I had never seen before. In an instant, everything became painfully clear. The problem had never been her personality. She just didn't love me. In the quiet car, Tristan suddenly murmured, "Samantha, if I hadn't gone abroad three years ago... would you still have married Logan?"I turned to look at Samantha. Her expression was guarded, hard to read. After a long silence, just when I thought she wouldn't answer, she whispered, "Probably not." A bitter smirk tugged at my ghostly lips. Deep down, I already knew that answer. I followed them to the restaurant, only to find that Tristan had booked out the entire venue, decorating it into an elaborate proposal setting. Samantha gasped, covering her mouth in shock. Tristan turned around, picked up a massive bouquet of red roses, and dropped to one knee before her. "This is the proposal I owed you three years ago. I don't want to leave this life with any regrets. Let me make it right today." Before Samantha could reach for the flowers, her phone in her pocket began ringing off the hook. The caller ID showed Daisy, my junior teammate. Samantha frowned slightly and answered. Before she could say a word, Daisy’s furious scream erupted through the speaker. "Samantha, where the hell are you?! Get back here right now!" "Logan is in trouble! The pilot who crashed into the wilderness... it's Logan!" The color instantly drained from Samantha’s face. Her eyes blew wide. "W-What did you say? That's impossible!" Daisy had no time for pleasantries, barking back: "A human life is on the line! I don't care where you are, get your ass over here right now!" Tristan was still on one knee. Seeing Samantha hang up in a daze, he looked up, confused. "What's wrong, babe?" Samantha didn't even glance at him. She opened our message thread. Seeing that her earlier text was still sitting there unanswered, she let out a cold snort, her fingers flying across the screen. [Logan, playing the same cheap trick twice won't work. Do you really think I'm that stupid?] [Stop playing sick to get attention. I'm not falling for it. You either show up in front of me right now, or we're completely done!] She angrily tossed her phone aside and pulled Tristan toward the table. I knew what she was thinking. She was convinced this was just a pathetic ploy on my part, a childish attempt to get her attention. Because I had pulled a stunt like that once before. Back when Tristan had just returned to the country. It happened to be my birthday. Samantha wouldn't even stay to blow out the candles with me before rushing off to pick him up at the airport. In front of all our friends and family, desperate to make her stay, I faked an illness. I wanted to use her sympathy to keep her by my side for just one night. She saw through my lie almost immediately. Right then and there, her face turned cold. She flipped the entire dining table, destroying the meal I had spent hours preparing, and walked out without looking back. Because of that incident, she refused to come home for an entire week. In the end, I had to run to her office, drop to my knees, and beg for her forgiveness, swearing I would never use a lie like that again before she finally agreed to come home. So this time, she thought I was repeating the same drama. What she failed to realize was that if I ever tried to win her pity, I would never involve anyone else. "I never realized Logan was so close to his little mentee," Tristan remarked casually, his tone dripping with malice. His snide comment immediately struck a nerve. Samantha’s face darkened as she sat down in silence. Tristan kept pouring gasoline on the fire. "I mean, it makes sense. They trained under the same coach in college and stayed close for five or six years after graduating. Sounds like she's quite the little soulmate." With a loud slam, Samantha slammed her phone onto the table. Her face was storm-black. "Soulmate? More like a side chick!" My fists clenched until my ethereal knuckles popped. I wanted nothing more than to lunge forward and tear Tristan's smirking mouth apart. No wonder Samantha would come home constantly criticizing me, picking fights, and tossing passive-aggressive insults whenever she met up with him. This was the source of it all. Moments later, Daisy called again, frantically urging Samantha to hurry over. Before Daisy could even finish, Samantha sneered directly into the mic: "Then let him die out there! I don't ever want to see his face again!" She hung up without hesitation. The cold finality in her eyes slashed straight through my heart. So this was who I was in Samantha’s eyes. She really, truly didn't care about me at all. I closed my eyes and hung my head, mourning the years of devotion I had wasted on her. Walking away from a marriage was hard, but nothing was harder than watching the person you loved drag your name through the mud. Disgusted, I turned to leave, but after only a few steps, an invisible force yanked me straight back to Samantha’s side. I tried several times, bewildered, only to realize I was bound to her. I couldn't move more than a few yards away. I let out a bitter, silent laugh. Was the universe mocking me? Did I really have to stick around just to watch myself get trampled over and over again? I drifted beside Samantha, exhausted, watching Tristan order an extravagant spread. Just as the two of them raised their wine glasses, a squad of police officers burst through the doors. "Samantha? You are a suspect in an intentional homicide investigation. Please come with us to the station."