(Teaser) Claire came back from the mountains sweeter than ever—cooking my favorite meals, calling me “hubby,” folding the laundry. There’s just one problem.

I don’t think she’s Claire anymore.

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Proverbs 27: 15-16

15 A quarrelsome wife is like the dripping

of a leaky roof in a rainstorm;

16 restraining her is like restraining the wind

or grasping oil with the hand.

 

My Wife Went on a Trip—and What Came Back Wasn’t My Wife

My wife went on a trip recently with her girlfriends.

What came back wasn’t my wife.

It wasn’t even subtle. I don’t know what happened to her up in those mountains, but if I’m being honest… it’s an improvement.

Claire used to be sweet. When we were dating, she was very attentive—doting, even. After a long day at work, she’d meet me at the door with a smile and a hug that I thought I could live inside forever. I made good money, enough for her to stay home, keep the place tidy, and tend to the little things that made our house feel like a dream.

So of course, I proposed.

When the Person You Married Becomes Someone Else

The wedding was beautiful. Life after the honeymoon started out smoothly. But it didn’t last long.

Claire started spending every day with her friends—long lunches, shopping trips, and endless spa days. I hardly ever saw her anymore. And when I did, she was either drunk or high.

She wasn’t a happy drunk.

She threw tantrums over maxed-out cards and screamed at me when the bank declined her latest spree. Demanded I work more overtime so she could keep buying things we didn’t need.

“You’re not providing for me like you promised in your wedding vows!”

I did promise to take care of her. But this… this was getting insane.

Her latest demand? A deluxe spa retreat for her and five girlfriends. A place up in the Smoky Mountains called Smoky Mountains Resort—mud baths, hot springs, seaweed wraps, the works.

When I hesitated and suggested that maybe just she should go, or perhaps scale back the five-friend headcount, she slapped me.

She had never hit me before. I was shocked.

“You’re a fucking bitch if you can’t pay for me and all my friends to have a decent birthday experience!”

So I paid.

I make good money, but I’m not a Jeff Bezos. I’m trying to retire someday. Still, I caved. I always did. “Happy wife, happy life,” right?

But something in me broke that day.

A Spa Trip to the Smoky Mountains—and a Breaking Point

I had tolerated her for too long. I believed in marriage—I really did—but Claire had become someone I didn’t recognize. I made up my mind: I would serve her divorce papers when she came back.

I didn’t know how she’d react. Probably call me a bitch again. Or worse. But it didn’t matter. I’d let the lawyers sort the mess out.

Her trip was a week long. I spent the time consulting attorneys, drafting documents, and rediscovering what peace and quiet felt like.

It was the final night of her trip. Tomorrow, she’d be home.

I poured myself a glass of Jack Daniels No. 7—my go-to. I’d spent the week juggling overtime with laundry and cleaning. It was exhausting, but also kind of… grounding. Whiskey helped take the edge off, but it was no shoulder rub like the ones Claire used to give me.

The Last Call from Claire

I sank into the recliner, savoring the quiet, when my phone buzzed. Claire’s ringtone.

I groaned. It was late. If I didn’t have tomorrow off, I’d already be in bed.

I figured she was calling to yell at me about some last-minute resort charge or to start the nagging early. I knocked back a shot and picked up.

“Hello?”

Static. Then—

“Mark! Please help me! There’s something stalking me!”

Her voice was low, frantic, a breathless whisper. The second shot had just started hitting me.

“Claire? I can’t hear you. Speak up.”

“You drunk asshole! Your wife is in trouble! You promised to protect me!”

The whisper turned into a strangled hiss—like she was shouting through clenched teeth. I rolled my eyes, already preparing to throw her own vows back at her, when a shriek rang through the line.

And then—silence.

Not a hang-up. Not a disconnect. Just… nothing.

Except… maybe something.

A rustling sound. Giggles? Grunting? Bare feet scuffing tile? Hard to say. Nothing direct. Just noise.

I stared at the phone for a few seconds, waiting for her to come back on. She didn’t.

Must’ve been a prank. Can’t wait for more of that when she gets home.

I poured one more shot, knocked it back, and went to bed.

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📌 Stay Tuned for Part Two

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