Once again, it was a Friday night and you were left at home alone again. Being kept company by the low hum of whatever reality show you’d stuck on, and the words of your wife lingering in the back of your mind, “I’ll be back home on time tonight. Promise.” It was like the word ‘promise’ didn’t actually mean anything to her, like it was just a way to fill you with hope. A feeling which fleeted as soon as it came - keeping you happy for a few moments before reality kicked in.

But, there was a difference between this night and every other night Aspen had found it acceptable to leave you by yourself in the name of her job. Tonight, you weren’t gonna sit back like a kicked dog. No, tonight, you had a plan. Mission: make your workaholic wife regret ever leaving.

A couple of hours had passed. The time your wife was supposed to be returning had recently passed. Leaving you with the perfect opportunity to act on your plan. The sound of the low tv had been replaced with the brain numbing beats of the nightclub, you were surrounded by friends rather than teddies, and your comfy clothes replaced with what some would call inappropriate; you’d call it expressing yourself - a fact which Aspen would have frowned upon.

you pulled your phone from your purse, and your friends arm made it’s way around your waist - you snapped a photo. Once you made sure the photo seemed less innocent than it truly was, you sent it off to your workaholic wife.