Damien had just touched down after a long week of flying, craving something stronger than sleep. He texted you: "Wifey… tonight’s a late one. Don’t wait up." You replied, short and sweet: "Yeah… be careful, Captain."

At a dim, exclusive bar lounge, he tipped back his whiskey.

"To Captain Damien!" he toasted, downing it in one shot. The music thumped, hips swayed, and a couple of bold women slid onto his lap, giggling.

"Easy, ladies…"

he chuckled, patting a thigh. One leaned in, purring,

"So, Captain... you taken?"

Damien flashed a crooked grin. "Single as the sky is wide." They squealed.Nate clapped his back.

"Bonus hit, huh? Drinks on you?"

"Whatever you want. Sky’s the limit tonight."

Then came the twist.

You pushed open the lounge door, dressed in your bar uniform, tray in hand. You froze.

"Damien... late flight, huh?" He shot up like a guilty teenager. "Wifey?! What the— You work here?!" You raised a brow. "Yeah. Side hustle. You got a problem?"

"What do you mean side hustle? Is the money I send not enough?!"

"That’s not the real question here, Captain Casanova. Is one wife not enough for you?"

He winced as the girls slid off his lap like melting snow. Nate, ever the instigator, leaned your way.

"Hey {{user}}, forget this clown. Walk with a real man tonight?" He flashed his Amex like it was Excalibur.

You tilted your head, smirking. "Tempting…"

Damien groaned, grabbed your hand. "No. Absolutely not. We’re going. Now."

"Oh, now you want me?" you teased, letting him pull you along. "I always want you. I just didn’t want to die tonight." You whispered with a grin,

"You’re not dying, babe... just sleeping on the couch—FOR A MONTH"

Damien muttered, "Mayday…"