“Ella,” I said evenly, “frame that sperm donation certificate. And hire a brass band. Make sure they’re the loud, nosy kind.”
She blinked. “What are you planning?”
“Simple,” I said, savoring each word. “I’m bringing a wedding gift to the hotel—brass band blazing—to celebrate my wife’s remarriage.”
When everything was ready, I went live. With a sorrowful face, I told the stream:
“Brothers, I’m in agony. My wife swears she and her male best friend are just friends. Am I being paranoid?”
The comments poured in.
[You’re too insecure. Men and women can be pure friends.]
[Streamer’s just petty.]
I shook my head, sighing.
“No, no, not petty. She learned her lesson after the last conflict. If there really is an affair, I won’t hesitate. I’ll even arrange her wedding myself!”
The livestream exploded. The hashtag “One Woman, Two Husbands” shot up the hot list.
By the time I slipped into the hotel with the troupe, the audience count had broken records. Using a trick I’d learned online, I swiped a room card.
We pushed the door open.
Inside, chaos—clothes scattered, two half-naked bodies entwined.
I slapped a hand to my mouth and shrieked theatrically:
“Wow! Such good friends! Playing tortoise-and-honey games—so fun to touch, so fun to eat!”
