Chapter 2

Friday rolled around, and Ethan came home from work looking restless and jittery.

He tried to play it cool, but I could tell something was bothering him. The cheating meter floating above his head was already sitting at a dangerous 95%.

Yikes. It was like dry timber waiting for a spark.

Even when I asked him which takeout we should order that night, he brushed me off with some half-hearted reply.

During dinner, I casually brought up a story.

"Hey, honey, something huge happened in Abby's hometown. It even made the local news."

"Oh yeah? What was it?" He mumbled, barely looking up from the chicken wing he was eating.

"One of her neighbors cheated on his wife, and she caught him red-handed. Got so mad she snipped his little 'problem-solver' right off!" I made a subtle scissor motion with my fingers.

Ethan's hand froze mid-bite.

His cheating meter above his head instantly dropped down to 60%.

"There was so much blood—it soaked straight through the bedsheets. Then she just... flushed it down the toilet. Gone for good."

30%.

I smiled sweetly. "After the guy called the cops, guess what the police decided?"

Ethan rubbed his nose, clearly uncomfortable, and shook his head.

"Ten days county time, sixty-buck fine. Can you believe it? His manhood was cheaper than a speeding ticket!" I said, giggling.

10%.

He forced a laugh that cracked at the edges. "Man, that lady's got some temper. If she was unhappy, why not just divorce him? No need for... all that violence."

I shook my head at him. "Oh, trust me, she went easy on him. When I visited Abby and played cards with her, she told me, 'Honey, in my church we don't do divorce, only funerals.'"

I leaned in, voice velvet. "Wanna know what I answered?"

"What?" Ethan asked with a nervous look.

"I told her, 'Same here,'"

Our eyes locked long enough to hear the fridge hum. Finally, he looked away. Then he put on a tender expression and squeezed my fingers. "Don't worry, babe. You're the only one. I swear."

3%.

Ethan barely touched the rest of his food. He rushed through the rest of the meal and went straight to the shower.

I told him that story as a warning. It was his last chance.

If he still craved the fire, knowing exactly how I feel about cheating... Well, let him remember who was holding the match.

*****

Ethan's showers usually clocked in at a neat ten minutes. That night, he stayed gone for fifty.

Our tankless heater gave up after thirty. The pipes ran cold, but the door stayed shut.

I noticed his phone had vanished from the nightstand.

I pressed my ear to the paneled gap. Water pounded tile, yet under the rush, his voice moved in urgent, hushed cadences—comforting, cajoling, promising things I couldn't catch.

When he finally emerged, towel-drying hair that didn't look wet, he announced the shower had been "freaking invigorating."

The number above his head disagreed: 80% and climbing.

A moment later, his phone rang. He stepped onto the balcony, shoulders angled away like a man shielding a candle. Two minutes later, he returned, exhaling the kind of sigh actors rehearse.

"Babe, disaster at work." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "My boss needs me to drop off some files tonight. I might not make it back."

"An overnight courier run," I repeated, tone flat enough to skate on.

"Exactly. My boss is at a conference in the neighboring city. They need these documents first thing in the morning for a big presentation. But if it weirds you out, I'll tell her to find somebody else.

I just stared. Wow. What a performance.

When I didn't answer, he must have thought I was upset.

A flicker of disappointment flashed in his eyes. "I know you don't want me to go, so I guess I'll stay."

50%.

"If it's for work, just go. Safe trip," I said flatly.

He manufactured reluctance beautifully: extra kisses, mumbled apologies, a backward glance at the door as though it might bite him. Then he was gone, tires squealing a little too eagerly for a man hauling office supplies.

I watched the red taillights disappear.

100%?

So much for cautionary tales.

Fine. If that was how he wanted it, he couldn't blame me for whatever happened next.