The Assignment

The water wasn't even that sweet.

Stacy stood at the counter, knife moving in steady, practiced strokes, already mentally filing the whole thing away as just another dumb wellness fad. Flavour drops. Sweeteners. Mushroom coffee. There was always something. If it actually worked, it wouldn't need that kind of packaging.

She rolled her shoulders once and went back to cooking.

She knew she was supposed to be nice to Evan. That was part of the deal. Be pleasant. Be patient. Smile when required. But it was a strain. He hovered too much. Spoke too softly. Took up space without ever really owning it.

Such a loser.

Not like his dad.

David was cool. Fun. Confident in that relaxed, older-man way that didn't try too hard because it didn't have to. Sure, if he hadn't been rich she wouldn't have given him a second glance, Stacy wasn't delusional, but it certainly didn't hurt that he was also hot. Silver at the temples, broad shoulders, the kind of man who knew exactly what he wanted and expected it to be there when he reached for it.

And she liked being what he reached for.

Evan, on the other hand, was young and skinny and permanently unfinished. Directionless. He was in school, which was... fine, she guessed. But students weren't her thing. Besides, she was, like, eight years older than this dork. That mattered. It had to matter.

She added garlic to the pan and stirred.

Dinner was her domain. She knew the drill. David would be home soon. He hadn't married her because she was great at accounting. No, the job description was clear enough: a full belly and a fun bedroom. And Stacy always did her homework.

She became aware, suddenly, that Evan was still there.

Just... standing behind her.

The hair at the back of her neck prickled.

Creepy.

"Need something?" she asked, keeping her tone neutral. Pleasant. Civil.

"Oh, uh, sorry," Evan said quickly. Weakly. Then he retreated, footsteps heading toward the stairs.

Good.

She exhaled and turned her attention back to the stove.

A few minutes later, the front door opened.

"Hi, babe," she called automatically, without looking up. "How was work?"

There was a pause behind her. Not long. Just long enough to feel wrong.

"Babe?" David said. "That's new."

Her hand stilled.

She turned, frowning. "What are you talking about? I always..."

David was looking at her strangely. Not annoyed. Not amused. Just... assessing. Like she'd said something strange. Like she'd been speaking gibberish.

"Honest mistake," he said after a beat, shrugging. "You probably thought I was Evan."

Her stomach dropped.

"What?"

"Is he home yet?" David asked casually, already loosening his tie.

"I... er..." Stacy said, her brain scrambling to catch up. "I think he's upstairs?"

"Great," David said, already heading toward the stairs. "See you later, Stacy."

He didn't kiss her. Didn't pause. Didn't even look back.

He just went upstairs.

Stacy stood alone in the kitchen, the smell of garlic thick in the air, her heart beating far too fast for a normal Tuesday evening.

Something was wrong. Deeply, fundamentally wrong. And she had no idea what.