A New Relationship

Evan didn't need to search for Stacy. Somehow, he knew where she was. The sensation wasn't physical exactly. It felt more like a compass needle settling into place. The moment he stepped through the house, certainty took hold. Upstairs. Master bedroom. The closer he got, the stronger the feeling became.

By the time he reached the top of the stairs, a knot had formed in his stomach. It had been bad enough when Stacy had been changed, when her mind had been transformed into that of a loving wife, but the effects of the new potion were much more unnerving. Changing reality in real-time? Making it so that he can't leave her alone? It wasn't just that things weren't normal, now they felt unsafe.

The bedroom door was closed. Evan pushed it open wide.

There she was. Stacy sat on the edge of the bed as though she'd been waiting for him. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then his eyes travelled downward.

"What the hell are you wearing?"

The question escaped before he could stop it. Black and white. Lace. An apron. High heels. The outfit looked less like clothing and more like somebody's idea of a sexy Halloween costume. Frustration flashed across Stacy's face.

"It's kind of hard to explain."

Her voice sounded exhausted.

"Things have gotten more complicated since you left."

Evan let out a short laugh.

"You're telling me."

Slowly, he stepped into the room.

"I tried driving away. Every road led back here."

Stacy blinked.

"What?"

"I mean literally," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I left. I kept leaving. Different streets. Different neighbourhoods. Different directions. Didn't matter. Every road eventually turned into ours."

Silence settled between them.

"I don't think we're married anymore."

The statement came so abruptly that it took him a second to process.

"What?"

"Whatever that second potion did, I think it changed things again."

A strange expression crossed her face. Part anger. Part resignation.

"Look at me."

Evan did.

"I'm looking."

"I don't think this is a costume. I think this is my life."

He frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not your wife, Evan. I'm... something else."

Before he could respond, Stacy stood.

"Come here."

She grabbed his hand and pulled him from the room. The sudden contact sent a jolt through him. Not fear. Not anger. A rushing increase of the arousal he'd felt since laying eyes on her. Thinking of her was one thing, seeing her another, but touching her? It was almost too much.

Downstairs they went, straight into the kitchen.

"Look."

Photographs covered the wall. Every single image had changed. Once, they had shown family vacations. Birthday parties. Pieces of his childhood.

Now every frame contained only two people. Him and Stacy. Picture after picture. Each image had Evan with a proud smile on his face, standing in different settings. Each image had Stacy on her knees, or in a extremely revealing outfit, staring at Evan with devotion in her eyes. Stacy begging. Stacy serving. Stacy submitting.

The imbalance was impossible to miss.

"I don't... what is this?"

"What this is," Stacy said, her voice rising, "is evidence."

She pointed at the wall.

"Whatever you drank rewrote things again, asshole."

The words hung in the air, while Stacy's face flashed a brief hint of discomfort.

"Hold on a second. I bet..."

Then she marched into the dining room. A binder sat on the table.

"I was right. This used to be 'The Encyclopedia of Evan'. It gave the previous Stacy, the one you could have had, tips on how to love you more each day. Now look at it!"

The title had changed.

THE MASTER MANUAL

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

Stacy folded her arms.

"The previous version of me spent her life learning everything about you."

Her laugh held no humour.

"Apparently that's not enough anymore."

Evan stared at the cover. Neither of them spoke for several seconds. Finally Stacy sank into a chair. Tears filled her eyes.

"You ruined everything, dipshit."

She winced in pain. The anger was still there. But underneath it sat grief. Raw grief.

"Stacy..."

"No."

Her voice cracked.

"Stop apologizing."

Evan fell silent.

"I'm tired of apologies."

She looked away.

"Tired of hearing how sorry you are."

A long pause followed.

Then, more quietly:

"I was happy."

The admission seemed to cost her something.

"I know it wasn't real."

Evan opened his mouth. She cut him off.

"I know," she said, another tear slipped down her cheek. "But it felt real."

Nothing in the room moved. Nothing made a sound. Just two people trapped inside a reality neither understood. Finally Evan knelt beside her chair.

"Maybe I made things worse."

The words felt heavy. Honest. Painfully honest.

"I thought I was helping."

"I know."

That surprised him. Stacy laughed bitterly.

"That's the worst part."

For the first time since he'd entered the room, their eyes met. No anger. No shouting. Just exhaustion.

"I know you were trying."

Something tightened in Evan's chest.

"I didn't want you to disappear."

"I know."

"And now I don't know what I've done."

Neither did she. That much was obvious. The silence stretched. Evan hadn't realized tears had formed in his own eyes until she noticed them.

"Oh."

Immediately she slid from the chair, joining him on the ground.

"Oh no."

Concern replaced the anger entirely.

"I'm sorry, sir."

The words came quickly, spilling out of her with desperation.

"Please don't cry."

Evan blinked.

"What?"

"I didn't mean to hurt you. It's all my fault. Please forgive me, sir."

She stopped. Blinked. Clearly struggling to understand her own reaction. Then Stacy abruptly pulled back. Her eyes widened.

"What the fuck was that?"

Evan frowned.

"What?"

She pointed at herself.

"One minute I hate you."

Then she pointed at him.

"The next minute you look sad and suddenly all I want to do is make it better."

A look of horror crossed her face.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?"