I came home from a long business trip — the kind that leaves you aching for your own bed, your own space, your own peace. All I wanted was to kick off my heels, slide under the covers, and fall asleep on my favorite pillow.

Instead, I found lace.

Not mine.

A delicate, unfamiliar pair of panties, smugly perched on my side of the bed.

I didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. Didn’t storm out into the night.

I stood there, staring, like the breath had been quietly knocked from my chest.

And then — I did something that surprised even me.

I picked them up.

I washed them.

And I wore them.

The Calm Before the Storm
He came home not long after. Keys jingling, door opening with a familiar creak. I was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, calm and composed in someone else’s lingerie.

“Look, baby,” I said, standing to greet him with a kiss on the cheek.

He froze.

Just for a moment. The mask slipped.