My Wife Gave Away My Place, Then She Regretted It

My wife loved watching me get jealous.

She said the more it bothered me when another man got close to her, the more it proved I loved her.

So every year on our anniversary, she let her best friend, Julian Hale, take my place as man of the house for a few days. Then she and her friends placed bets on how long I would last.

The first year, Julian wore one of my custom suits without asking and posed for pictures beside her.

I told him to take it off in front of everyone. Vivian kissed me and laughed, saying she knew I couldn't live without her.

The second year, she gave Julian the master bedroom and sent me to the guest room.

I told him to get out of our room. Only then did she open the door and say it was just for one night.

Last year, she brought Julian to dinner at her parents' house, sat him in my chair, and let her mother and father call him their son-in-law.

She did not come after me until I stood up and walked out.

"It's just a word, Owen. You're really going to make a thing out of this?"

This year, they went further.

Julian rolled his suitcase into our house and held up a new set of keys in front of all our friends.

"Viv says I get to try being man of the house for seven days. You're not going to be mad, are you?"

Vivian hooked her arm around his shoulders, her eyes bright with anticipation.

"If he really loves me, he'll be jealous."

Everyone was waiting for me to explode the way I did every year, so she could laugh and announce that the game was over.

But this time, I went upstairs and packed my things.

Before I left, I placed my wedding ring and my house key in her palm.

"Seven days isn't long enough."

"He can have my place. For good."

...

Vivian did not follow me.

Behind me, her friends were still cheering.

"He's trying a new strategy this year."

"Don't give in too soon, Viv."

Vivian laughed softly.

"He can't stand being away from me. Three days at most, and he'll come back on his own."

That night, she started a new pool in the group chat.

She put three thousand dollars on me not lasting seventy-two hours.

To make sure I would be the one to give in first, she added Julian's code to the smart lock on our front door.

Then she handed him the spare key that had hung on my hook by the garage since the day we moved in.

Wearing my slippers, Julian posted a photo of the key beside his breakfast.

The caption read:

[Man of the House, Day 1.]

The group chat exploded.

[Tonight: the master bedroom.]

[Shouldn't the man of the house get the car for a couple of days too?]

Vivian did not tell them to stop.

She replied:

[The Range Rover keys are in the second drawer of the entry table.]

I saw it while I was unpacking at the small house my parents had left me.

No one had lived there in years.

Dust covered the windowsills, and rust had crept around the kitchen faucet.

But at least no one there treated my place as a prize in a game.

The first year, after Julian took my suit, I lost my temper in front of everyone.

Vivian caught me at the door and spent a long time explaining.

She said she had only wanted to see whether I would get jealous over her.

Then she promised.

"This is the first time, and it's the last time."

Now Julian was trying on my custom suits one by one.

He had even found my watch and cufflinks and gone live on Instagram so their friends could help him choose which combination looked most like the man of the house.

He fastened a cufflink in front of the camera and straightened his collar.

"What about this one?"

Vivian was sitting beside him. She glanced up.

"It looks better on you than it does on him."

The comments filled with laughter.

Someone asked why I wasn't there.

Julian leaned back against the couch and gave the camera a helpless smile.

"Owen can't take a joke. It's a challenge, that's all."

"I was just doing Viv a favor. Who knew he'd actually get upset and move out?"

"But we all know he'll be back eventually."

Vivian answered before anyone else could.

"He'll come home once he's done sulking."

A minute later, she texted me.

[Every marriage needs a little excitement. There's no reason to get this upset over a joke.]

[If you're going to keep up this running-away act, then come get your things.]

When I went back, the keypad no longer accepted my code.

In the end, Julian was the one who opened the door for me.

My watch was on his wrist, and my slippers were on his feet.

The master bedroom had been made up with the pale blue sheets he liked.

My toiletries had been swept into a cardboard box.

Our wedding portrait had been taken down from above the bed and left leaning against the wall in the corner.

A stack of boxes covered half of Vivian's face and half of mine.

Vivian pushed the box toward me.

"Owen, playing hard to get only works once."

Julian leaned against the bedroom doorframe and looked at me.

"Do you want me to move to the guest room?"

He asked, but he did not take a single step.

Vivian only said, "No. The man of the house sleeps in the master bedroom."

Then she turned to me.

There was a familiar amusement in her eyes.

She was waiting for me to explode and throw him out, or to force her to choose between us in front of everyone.

I simply picked up the box.

"Did I miss anything?"

For the first time, the smile at the corner of her mouth faded.

She stared at me for several seconds before she spoke again, her voice cold.

"You're playing your part well this time, Owen. Let's see how many more days you can last."

I did not answer.

I turned around and closed the door behind me.