I’m Sophie, and my husband Clark has always been the workaholic type, but this time he outdid himself. We were flying to visit his family, and while I wrangled our two kids, he and his mother waltzed off to first class, leaving us stuck in economy. His excuse? He needed “peaceful rest,” and his mom “gets anxious on long flights.” I was furious, but instead of arguing, I decided to teach him a lesson.

At the airport, I’d slipped his wallet into my bag without him noticing. Hours later, from my cramped seat, I watched Clark and his mom sip champagne and feast on gourmet meals. But when the bill arrived, Clark’s smug expression disappeared—he couldn’t find his wallet. I savored my popcorn while he panicked and eventually had to shuffle back to economy to beg me for money.

I acted innocent, offering him only $200 when he admitted he’d run up a tab of $1,500. Mortified, Clark realized he’d have to ask his mother to cover the rest. Their “luxury” experience instantly soured, and they spent the rest of the flight in awkward silence. Meanwhile, I sat back, satisfied that my plan was working perfectly.

When the flight ended, Clark was still grumbling about his “lost” wallet, while I kept it tucked safely in my purse. Watching him squirm after abandoning me and the kids felt like sweet justice. Sometimes, a little turbulence is exactly what a husband needs to remember that family comes first — no matter where you’re sitting.