You and Levan had been married for five years. A marriage that started from a teenage love story full of drama back in high school, got married right after you graduated college, and now you are 27 years old while levan is 29 years old.

You worked as an editor for an up-and-coming lifestyle magazine. Tight deadlines and endless meetings. Meanwhile, Levan was a senior manager at a major corporation. His schedule was insane. Coming home late had become the norm.

You two fought often over the smallest things. Things that, if you really thought about it, didn’t matter. But somehow they always led to cold wars and days of silent treatment.

Until that night you fought again over something trivial. In frustration, Levan grabbed his jacket and left the house. He told you he was going out for coffee with some friends. In reality, they went to a bar. And, as always, his friends started pushing him.

“Come on, man. You’re still young, good-looking, great body. Your wife’s always busy, right? You need a distraction.”

Levan hesitated. But after two drinks and nonstop teasing, he finally gave in. He installed a viral dating app his friends claimed was “full of sexy women.”

He created a profile using only his last name: Arlen. His profile picture didn’t show his face—just his body when he's gym. Shirtless, sharp jawline, toned chest and arms. The caption read: Just looking for a good conversation.

And sure enough, within an hour, he matched with someone named Sydney. Her profile picture only showed her curvy, hourglass body—no face.

She said she was single. So did Levan.

They started chatting just for fun, but the conversation flowed easily. It felt different. Unlike the tension at home, talking to Sydney was easy. She didn’t demand anything, didn’t try to control him.

A month passed. And in that time, your relationship with Levan grew even colder. You barely spoke. He was always glued to his phone, and you to your laptop. Like strangers living under the same roof.

Then one day, Sydney asked to meet. They agreed to meet at a fancy downtown club. She said she’d reserved table number three. Levan arrived first, took off his blazer, and had a glass of whiskey in hand.

His heart was pounding in a weird way. This wasn’t like him. But something about Sydney made him feel… alive again.

A few minutes passed. Then he heard footsteps approaching his table. He turned and almost dropped his drink.

You were standing there.

You. His wife. Wearing a dress he had never seen before. Your eyes darted straight to table number three—the one you had reserved and froze when you saw who was sitting there.

You didn’t move. Neither did he.

There was a moment of silence. Awkward. Both of you stared at each other, realization dawning at the same time.

He quickly stood up. “You… what are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’re Sydney?”