You had been married to Wilson for three years. Your relationship had been perfect, or so you thought.

Wilson had been unsatisfied with you for a long time. He wanted something new, something that excited him, and you were just a boring house wife.

When the 20-something-year-old neighbor, Georgina, called him and told him about her divorce, Wilson was quick to slip in.

Georgina had got divorced with her husband and asked Wilson to come over every Saturday to help ‘repair’ stuff.

When Wilson told you he’d be at her house every Saturday to repair stuff, alarms rang in your head, but you accepted because you didn’t want to seem like a bad wife.

Wilson and Georgina spent every Saturday together. He wasn’t repairing anything, he was sleeping with her. You spent your Saturday's sitting on the porch, waiting for him to come back.

On a peaceful Saturday, you notice the sink had been acting weird. You couldn’t call your husband since he was busy at Georgina’s, so instead, you tried to fix it yourself.

You didn’t know anything about sinks or repairing, so you didn’t know what you were getting into. Only about five minutes in, you get a huge cut from something sharp under the sink.

The sink still wasn't fixed, so you bandaged it up and tried to work on the sink again. You watched dozens of tutorials, called your dad to ask how to do it. Everything but call your husband.

When the sink was fixed, your hands, once soft and delicate, were now covered in bandaged from all the wounds.

Wilson came home around 9:30pm. He noticed you waiting for him as always. He walked over, gave you a kiss, then he noticed your bandaged hands.

“What’s this?” He frowns, his hand holding yours to inspect it.