After a full year of flaming each other online, that piece of trash finally cracked. He found an excuse to surrender first: "I’m married, okay? I have to go home and cook for my wife. I don’t have the energy to deal with a psycho like you anymore. Please just block me." I laughed out loud and typed back: "LMAO. Who would marry a defect like you? Your brain is smoother than a chicken breast. Save the lies for someone who cares." I was merciless. I felt like I owned the internet today. "Heh. Sorry to disappoint you, but I really do have a wife. And she’s dead gorgeous." Then, he dropped a photo right in the chat. In the picture, a handsome guy with thick brows and big eyes was standing next to a woman who looked incredibly familiar. Wait a second. Isn’t that me? Isn't that the photo I took with my crush right before we flash-married? [Why aren't you replying? Intimidated by her beauty?] [Next time you want to roast someone, look in a mirror first.] [You aren't even in her league.] [Middle Finger Emoji] The lunatic on the other end kept provoking me. But I just stared at the screen, zooming in on the photo again. The beautiful couple in the picture was undeniably me and my new husband, Luke. But how could this toxic, keyboard-smashing troll be my gentle, virtuous husband? It’s impossible. This hater must have hacked my phone. That has to be it! Clinging to a shred of hope, I typed: [Is that the only photo you have?] [Probably stole it from somewhere.] One second later. He spammed me with ten more photos. All identical to the ones in my private album. Some were candid shots of me taken from his perspective—photos even I didn’t have. [You really will say anything to cope, you sewer rat. Your life must suck if you have to project this hard.] [Look. Here’s the braised ribs I made her. The tofu salad. The shrimp...] [Has anyone ever cooked for you? Or are you eating instant noodles in your mom’s basement?] [Well? Look in my eyes!] [Answer me!] His tone was so arrogant he was practically ascending to heaven. Meanwhile, my heart plummeted straight to hell. I flash-married my secret crush, only to find out he’s the internet troll I’ve been fighting with for a year. We haven't even been married as long as we've been enemies. [Get lost!] He kept spamming, bragging about his life. I sent those two words and blocked him. At 5:15 PM, my husband came home half an hour early. Luke was bending over to change his shoes. I leaned back on the sofa, tilting my head to study him. He was wearing a crisp white shirt and black slacks. Tall, broad shoulders, narrow waist. Thanks to his gym habits, his muscles were perfectly defined, his skin fair. His face was the real killer. Peach-blossom eyes, high nose bridge—he looked like a top-tier K-pop idol. When my friend introduced us, she said he was an Ivy League grad, top-tier IQ and looks. Most importantly, he was a great cook, gentle, and polite. He was exactly my type: the perfect "malewife" material. Looking at his face, I believed it. While we were dating, Luke’s acting was Oscar-worthy. Not a single crack in the mask. He never swore. Not once. One time, I saw a dirty slang term online and forwarded it to him. He video-called me, looking genuinely confused, asking what it meant. "Touch grass? Is that about gardening?" The man on the screen shook his head, looking so innocent and unworldly. I felt guilty for corrupting him. "Oh, it's just internet slang. Not a nice word. Don't worry about it." In reality? I checked our chat logs from that day. He not only understood it immediately, he clapped back with: [Your brain is so smooth I could go ice skating on it.] Thinking about it now... this man is a master manipulator. Luke carried a bag of shrimp into the kitchen. After washing his hands, he trotted over to me like a golden retriever. "Riley, you said you liked the shrimp last time. I left work early to get the freshest ones today." I lifted my eyelids and gave him a tight smile. "That must have been trouble for you." He looked at me, eyes crinkling with a smile. He crouched down and took my hand. "It's never trouble. Cooking for you is my blessing." No, no, no. I can't accept that. My "blessing" is apparently eating instant noodles in a basement. "Alright, go cook." I pushed Luke’s shoulder. I didn't want to see him acting cute. I used to think it was adorable. Now I just marveled at his commitment to the bit. That night, Luke reached out as usual to hook his arm around my waist, pulling me into his embrace. I stared at the dark ceiling and suddenly asked: "Do you know what a 'sewer rat' is?" He let out a confused hum through his nose. "Hmm? What's that? Some kind of mutant ninja turtle thing?" He sounded so serious. I almost laughed out loud. "You really don't know?" "Wifey, I really don't. Tell me?" "Forget it. Let go, it's hot." I rolled over, taking the duvet with me, rolling all the way to the edge of the bed. Luke let out a soft "Oh" and lay flat, behaving himself. But a few minutes later, I heard rustling behind me. I turned my head. Hot breath tickled my ear. Luke had scooted over to the edge, chasing me. "Why are you so close?" "Move over." In the dark, I couldn't see his face, but his voice was dripping with grievance. "Why?" "You're too close. I'm hot." I was getting impatient. "I'll turn on the AC, okay?" Luke spoke cautiously, terrified of making me angry. "No need. Just scoot over." Thinking about his arrogant attitude in our DM war, I was still fuming. "Okay." Luke pulled the blanket up to my stomach, patted me gently, and turned over. Now, we were back to back, a demilitarized zone of three feet between us. I thought I'd feel better, but I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned until 3 AM. Suddenly, a dim light glowed behind me. Luke wasn't asleep either. He was looking at his phone. Curiosity got the better of me. I turned slightly and peeked. In the search bar, a glaring title: [Why is my wife suddenly cold to me after marriage?] The AI-generated summary at the top had two words: [She's cheating.] Me: "?" What kind of brain-dead AI is this? Luke turned off his phone. I closed my eyes, pretending to sleep. A few minutes later, I heard the sound of tissues being pulled. Then, soft, stifled sobs drifted into my ears. No way. He actually believed it? He believes whatever the AI says? I should sell him oceanfront property in Arizona when we're old. After a sleepless night, I was dozing off at my desk. I hadn't even opened the file my boss sent. My phone pinged. A private message on that app. I flinched. I didn't want to click it. This was the alt account I used exclusively to fight with Luke. We didn't follow each other. A sudden DM meant my "old friend" was big mad about being blocked. I clicked it. A giant middle finger emoji filled the screen. Called it. Luke, using a blank username, demanded: [Did you doxx me?] Me: [?] [Are you drunk?] [Ever since I sent you my wife's photo yesterday, she's been giving me the cold shoulder. She's never been like this.] [What does that have to do with me?] At least he has some brains. He didn't stick with the cheating theory. [Stop pretending.] [Did you find her contact info? Did you send her screenshots of our chats?] I watched the "typing..." bubble and felt a sudden urge to play with him. [Wow, you're smart. So what if I did? Did we talk about anything we shouldn't have?] Five minutes later, Luke folded. [My wife doesn't like aggressive people.] [Look, I'll transfer you a few thousand dollars. You clarify things. Tell her the account in the screenshots isn't me.] I stared at the phone, speechless. He slid to his knees so fast. He knows exactly what "type" I like, so he wants to keep scamming me. Can't he just be himself? Is he addicted to roleplaying the innocent flower boy? [Fine.] I went with the flow. [Name a place. I'll have my secretary bring a contract. You sign, take the money, and explain that the account isn't me.] Wow, so professional. I checked my business trip schedule for next week and sent a location. [Fine. But I want you to come personally. Otherwise, I will forward every word you've typed in the last year to your wife.] Luke: [You psycho, you aren't going to assassinate me, are you?] Me: [Bring two bodyguards if you're scared.] I unblocked his account. I honestly forgot how our feud started. Eventually, arguing became a habit. Opening the app and insulting him was like clocking in for work. I clicked on his profile. Man, I discovered a new continent. I was so busy fighting him I never noticed he had posts. One was from last year, back when we were strangers. The first GIF was him getting a tongue piercing. The shiny stud glinted under the light. My pupils dilated. Hiss. WTF? He had a tongue piercing?! Doesn't that hurt? Just looking at it made my tongue numb. Scroll to the next one. Two slender fingers holding a lit cigarette. Didn't he say he hates smoking? Scroll to the bottom. A glass of whiskey on a desk. Didn't he say he doesn't drink? Luke, you smoke and drink in private? You're just playing the white rabbit in front of me? I never expected the perfect househusband to be this wild. Just then, a WeChat message popped up. [Wifey, are you off work? I'm downstairs waiting for you.] Looking at his "Lotus Flower" profile picture and his bio—"Heaven Rewards the Diligent"—my exasperation deepened. He loves sending me "Boomer" style memes with giant text. I genuinely thought Luke was an old soul who barely used the internet. Now I highly suspect his sticker pack is full of dank memes. [Coming.] I locked my phone and went downstairs. In the elevator, I met my colleague, Kevin. "Hey! I was just about to call you. Director Liu is treating us to dinner tonight. Come along." "Ah, pass. My husband is picking me up." "Perfect! Bring him along. We'll drink him under the table!" "No, no, my husband doesn't..." Wait. Drinking? "Okay. Sure. No problem." Luke sat to my right. He kept attentively putting food on my plate. My colleagues took the chance to tease: "Riley's husband looks so scholarly. I wonder if he can handle a few drinks with us roughnecks." Usually, I would intervene. No, my husband doesn't touch alcohol. Not a drop. But today? I stayed silent. Under the table, Luke’s hand tugged at my sleeve. He shook it gently. I looked into his panicked, reserved eyes. "Drink a little. It's fine. I'll drive tonight." He looked at me pitifully, his long lashes fluttering like a victim. Then, he picked up the glass, frowned, and took a tiny, tentative sip. "Hey, that's not enough! Bro, are you looking down on me? Bottoms up!" Kevin is a drunkard. He loves pressuring people. Luke wasn't getting out of here without downing a few. After the fifth full glass, Luke downed it in one gulp. The guys opposite him were already shaking their heads, saying they tapped out. I heard Luke set his glass down. Clink. Then his head hit the table. "Luke?" "Wake up." I pulled his arm, gently patting his slightly flushed cheek. "Hmm?"
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