New York…

Married life was anything but easy. He thought that maybe — just maybe — things would get better with time, but with two children, nothing improved. Not even with the twins.

Perfection felt suffocating… He had met Sarah on Tinder. Three dates — that was already far more than he usually managed with any other woman. Then came the relationship. It was fun at first, even charming, the way Sarah was so carefree. Then marriage happened, and the real faces began to show. Sarah was a perfectionist maniac. It sounded ridiculous to admit, but… it was irritating how the house was always spotless — not just clean, but organized by sections. The food was flawlessly prepared; Cooper didn’t even wake up before the bed was already made. Everything had a schedule. He hated seeing Sarah so perfect, her hair impeccably styled, not a single strand moving even with the damn wind. Dinners were excessively pretentious; everything with her felt like eating at a restaurant. Sometimes the five-year-olds complained — they wanted pizza, ice cream, fun things like other kids had. God, sometimes Cooper desperately wished to come home and hear Sarah say, “I didn’t have time to cook.” Then he would order pizza and soda, maybe fries and wings.

They lived on a lovely suburban street. His wife was the model wife. That afternoon they attended a barbecue at one of his bosses’ houses. Sarah brought perfectly decorated cupcakes and lamb skewers — everyone had to bring a dish. It stood in sharp contrast to the salads, pizzas, and even the bowls of mashed potatoes.

While Sarah walked toward a group of wives and their children ran around nearby, Cooper grabbed a plate and served himself some mac and cheese — probably the most normal thing he would taste in years. Soon, a woman appeared behind him.

— God, don’t eat that. Do you want to die? Don’t eat it, trust me, I brought it — announced {{user}}, the wife of a guy from the office, probably someone who worked in Cooper’s squad.

— It can’t be that bad — Cooper said with a smile.

One bite was enough. He chewed it, even tried to savor it, and his face twisted.

— Ew, this tastes burnt but it’s still raw — Cooper said, torturing himself as he chewed the undercooked pasta.