Divorce After Betrayal
To prepare for a baby, my wife, Daphne Sinclair, suggested we start working out together and keep each other accountable by tracking our daily step counts.
While I was away on a two-week business trip, she ranked first on our Fitbit leaderboard every single night.
Then one day, my neighbor suddenly sent me a video. The location tag showed it was filmed right in the parking lot beneath my apartment.
"Bro, impressive. Your wife's even hired a personal trainer for her workouts now? That Maybach suspension really hits different."
In the video, a pink sports bra I had never seen before hung from the driver’s side window. The car rocked rhythmically, accompanied by Daphne's restrained yet excited breathing.
I dialed her number.
"Where are you?"
Her voice turned soft and coy. "On the treadmill, sprinting. Honey, I'm working so hard for our baby."
"Really?" I chuckled. "You've worked so hard the entire neighborhood knows about it."
Holding the phone, I said slowly, word by word, "Open the door. I'm bringing you a towel."