Where is the Coldplay kiss cam couple now?

Kristin Cabot has been told she is unemployable.

The 53-year-old former HR executive, whose face became one of the most recognisable memes of 2025 after being caught in an intimate embrace with her boss on a Coldplay jumbotron, is now searching for work with little success, dealing with the wreckage of a career she spent decades building, and grappling with the reality that the man beside her that night appears to have quietly reconciled with his wife while she remains a public target of ridicule and scorn.

In her first interview since the July incident that shook her life, Cabot told The New York Times last week that she made "a bad decision" fuelled by "a couple of High Noons" at the Coldplay concert at Gillette Stadium in Foxborough, Massachusetts, on July 16. She danced inappropriately with her boss, she said. She took accountability. And she gave up her career for it. But the price, she insists, has far exceeded the crime.

Andy Byron, the 51-year-old former CEO of data operations company Astronomer who was caught on camera with his arms wrapped around Cabot that night, has said nothing publicly. He declined to be interviewed by The Times. Yet photographs published by the Daily Mail in October showed Byron strolling hand-in-hand with his wife, Megan Kerrigan Byron, along the Maine coast, both wearing their wedding bands. They appeared relaxed. They appeared together. They appeared to have weathered the storm that Cabot says has left her isolated, unemployable, and receiving death threats that terrified her children into believing their mother might be killed.

The disparity in their fates has not been lost on Cabot. She told The Times that the harassment she faced was overwhelming and gendered, with women in particular targeting her online. "What I've seen these last months makes it harder for me to believe that it's all about the men holding us back," she said. She was called a slut, a homewrecker, a gold digger. She received between 50 and 60 death threats. At the height of the frenzy, she was receiving 500 to 600 phone calls a day. One threat was so specific about her daily habits that it chilled her: "I know you shop at Market Basket and I'm coming for you."

That message was accidentally overheard by her children when she played it for her mother on speakerphone, not realising they were listening through the bedroom door. "They were already in really bad shape, and that's when the wheels fell off the cart," Cabot said. "Because my kids were afraid that I was going to die and they were going to die."

The viral clip that ignited all of this lasted mere seconds. During Coldplay's "Music of the Spheres" tour, frontman Chris Martin routinely invited cameras to pan across the audience during what he calls "The Jumbotron Song," spotlighting couples for lighthearted improvised commentary. When the camera found Cabot and Byron in a VIP section, his arms around her as they swayed to the music, both immediately panicked. Cabot covered her face. Byron ducked out of frame. Their obvious alarm only amplified suspicion. "Either they're having an affair or they're just very shy," Martin quipped from the stage, a joke that would echo across every social media platform within hours.

By the next morning, internet sleuths had identified both executives. The original TikTok video posted by concertgoer Grace Springer accumulated over 130 million views. Memes proliferated. Parody accounts emerged. Within days, Astronomer's board had launched an internal investigation, placing both on leave. Byron resigned first, on July 19. Cabot followed shortly after, though she says the company's investigation found no evidence of an ongoing affair and actually offered to reinstate her. She declined. "I could not imagine how I could stand up as H.R. chief when I was a laughingstock," she told The Times.

Cabot insists the concert was the first and only time she and Byron ever kissed. She acknowledges she had developed what she called "big feelings" for him after joining Astronomer as Chief People Officer in November 2024. They spoke daily, sometimes three times a day. They bonded over the fact that both were going through marital separations. "At work, we shared confidences and made each other laugh," she said. But she believed she could manage a crush without crossing professional boundaries. "I was like: 'I got this. I can have a crush. I can handle it.'"

The night of the concert, she invited Byron to join her and friends. She wore a cute outfit. She wanted to dance and laugh. She had a few tequila cocktails. And then she grabbed him. "Some inside part of my brain might have been jumping up and down and waving its arms, saying, 'Don't do this,'" she recalled. She ignored it. Minutes later, she was on a jumbotron in front of 65,000 people, and shortly after that, in front of the entire internet.

Adding salt to the wound was Astronomer's response. The company hired Gwyneth Paltrow, Chris Martin's ex-wife, as a "temporary spokesperson" for a tongue-in-cheek promotional video that went viral itself, garnering over 30 million views on X. Paltrow addressed the camera cheerfully, pretending the most common questions the company had received were about data workflow automation rather than the scandal engulfing its leadership. Cabot was devastated. "I was such a fan of her company, which seemed to be about uplifting women," she told The Times of London. "And then she did this. I thought, 'How dare she after the beating she got for all the conscious uncoupling stuff.' What a hypocrite." She threw out all her Goop products in protest.

Cabot's estranged husband, Andrew Cabot, the CEO of Privateer Rum and a descendant of one of Boston's oldest families, was on a business trip to Japan when the video went viral. Through a spokesperson, he later confirmed that he and Kristin had been "privately and amicably separated" several weeks before the Coldplay concert and that their divorce was already underway. She filed official paperwork in August. Andrew Cabot has two children from a previous marriage; he and Kristin share none.

Byron's situation remains murkier. Cabot told The Times that Byron had confided he was also separating from his wife before the concert. Yet no divorce filings have appeared in Massachusetts or Maine court records. His wife Megan initially removed "Byron" from her social media handles and deleted her accounts, but by autumn, the couple had been photographed multiple times in Kennebunk, Maine, looking content and committed. They have two sons together.

Cabot and Byron stayed in touch through the summer, she said, exchanging "crisis management advice" and updates about their families. But in September, they met one final time and agreed to stop communicating. "Speaking with each other was going to make it too hard for everyone to move on and heal," she explained. She has had minimal contact with him since.

The professional fallout for Cabot has been severe. Despite her decades of experience in human resources leadership, she says she has been repeatedly told she is now unhireable. Many former friends and colleagues have cut ties. "I became a meme," she said. "I was the most maligned HR manager in HR history." Her children, teenagers from her first marriage, have been embarrassed to be seen with her. The harassment, she says, has never fully stopped.

Byron, meanwhile, has remained silent and invisible, save for those photographs in Maine. His LinkedIn has been deleted. His wife has not commented publicly. The couple's $5.4 million home in Massachusetts has reportedly been sold. They appear to be rebuilding quietly, privately, together.

Cabot wants people to understand that a single bad decision, made in a moment of alcohol-fuelled poor judgment, should not define a person forever. "I want my kids to know that you can make mistakes, and you can really screw up," she said. "But you don't have to be threatened to be killed for them." She also wants to push back against assumptions that her career success came from inappropriate relationships. "It has been like a scarlet letter; people erased everything I'd accomplished in my life and achieved in my career," she said. "This can't be the final word."

Whether Cabot can rehabilitate her reputation remains uncertain. For now, she continues searching for work in an industry that apparently wants nothing to do with her, while the man who stood beside her on that jumbotron walks along a Maine beach with his wife, their wedding rings catching the autumn light, their future seemingly intact.