Is spend preparing for the night where you'll swap significant others

You lived in a haze. Every action felt detached, like you were watching a movie of your own life. At work, the numbers on your screen blurred into meaningless symbols. You'd catch your reflection in the dark monitor and see a stranger with pale skin and haunted eyes.

At home, the transformation was happening. Amy was a whirlwind of manic energy. She bought new lingerie, sets in black and deep crimson that looked like blood on snow. She practiced different poses in the mirror, tilting her head, pouting her lips, evaluating herself with a critical eye that sent a shiver down your spine. The baking smells were gone, replaced by the sharp, chemical scent of new perfume.

"It's called 'Obsession,'" she'd said, spritzing it on her wrists and neck. "Jessica swears by it. He likes it."

He. Jacob. The name was a constant, low hum in the background of your existence.

The day arrived. A Saturday. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple that you couldn't appreciate. Amy was in the shower. The sound of the water was a final, roaring curtain between your old life and this terrifying new act.

You stood in front of the closet. What did one wear to watch their girlfriend get fucked by their best friend's husband?

You pick out a new suit to look good for Jessica. Her appearance is often described as 'stunning', with a cascade of jet-black hair and piercing green eyes. A curvy body that could launch a thousand ships.

You pulled out the dark grey suit. The one you'd bought for a cousin's wedding, the one Amy had said made you look 'distinguished.' You laid it out on the bed, the fabric smooth and cool under your trembling fingers. Distinguished. What a joke. You were about to be rendered insignificant, a spectator in your own relationship.

The bathroom door opened, releasing a cloud of steam that smelled of Amy's floral soap and that cloying, predatory perfume. She stepped out, wrapped in a towel. Her skin was pink from the heat, her hair a damp, vibrant red halo around her face. She saw the suit on the bed and a knowing smirk touched her lips.

"Getting ready for your date?" she teased, her voice light and cruel. She let the towel drop.

Her breasts, usually a source of soft, shared intimacy, were teasing you. Her pink shaven pussy almost to much. You want to call it off. But it too late.

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