After Work The Next Day

The house is quiet, the kind of quiet you only get once the children are asleep and the dishes are done. You’re curled up at the end of the sofa, feet tucked under you, a glass of wine cradled in your hand. Tom is beside you, his own glass resting on the arm of the chair, the low hum of the TV filling the space between you.

You take a slow sip, the dry warmth spreading across your tongue before you swallow. It’s been a long day, the kind that leaves your shoulders heavy but your mind oddly restless.

Without warning, the memory of that video flickers across your thoughts, the subtitles, the way she spoke straight into the camera. You can still see her lips moving, the words appearing in neat white text: “It’s not about not loving your husband…”

You frown slightly and shake your head, almost irritated at yourself. The idea disgusts you, the betrayal of it, the casual way she spoke about stepping outside her marriage. You know you’d never do it.

And yet… something about it lingers. Not the act itself, but the boldness. The permission she seemed to give herself. It stirs something low in your stomach you don’t want to name, a warmth that doesn’t quite fit with your own sense of loyalty.

You take another sip of wine, eyes fixed on the TV but not really watching, the glass cool in your hand. Beside you, Tom shifts, his arm brushing yours, and you **** the thought back into the corner of your mind where it belongs.