One night, my stomach condition flared up.Frank Turner, my loving husband, promised to swing by the pharmacy for my meds.Soon after, he called. "My boss just sprung overtime on me. I sent the pills up in the elevator. Take them, alright? I'll be back soon. Love you."I hated the dark, so no matter how late his shifts ran, Frank used to race home, saying the thought of me shivering alone in bed gnawed at him.Now he hung up with a reluctant sigh, and I believed him.Unexpectedly, his "overtime" was a steamy hookup with a college girl in his car. In the backseat, they sweated buckets and panted hard.She asked, "Do you love me, Frank?"He chuckled, "If I didn't, would I be here this late? Gotta punish you for doubting me."They dove into another round, oblivious to the world.After a while, Frank got out, slid into the driver's seat, and drove off.I watched it all in silence, and minutes later, my phone rang."Babe, feeling better now?" he asked. "If not, I'll swing back an
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