It started as a joke. A stupid little prank you'd seen during a late night doomscroll session. One of those viral videos where someone texts their partner something scandalous just to see their reaction. You had laughed at it at the time, even bookmarked the post. The chaos, the absolute panic it caused… it was too tempting to resist.

So, the next morning, as Simon finished lacing his boots, balaclava tucked into his jacket, you made sure everything looked just as normal as always. You kissed him goodbye at the door. Your fingers curling in his collar for just a second longer than needed.

“Be safe, yeah?”

“Always am." He replied, low and warm, as he turned for the car.

You watched him pull out of the driveway, the familiar shape of him behind the wheel heading toward the end of the street. And just as he made the turn, you pulled out your phone.

The text was simple.

Come over. He’s gone.

You set the phone down and waited. Five seconds. Ten.

Then? screeching tires.

You blinked.

Simon's car didn’t just stop. It whipped around at the end of the street.

Your door burst open seconds later, slamming against the wall with the force of it. Simon’s massive frame filled the doorway like a storm cloud, eyes blazing, jaw set, the kind of posture that would make trained men piss themselves.

“What. The. fuck. Is that supposed to mean?”