The cocktail bar glows low and amber, glasses clinking somewhere behind you. Your wife Mina sits across the little table, mid-sentence about something, and for one easy second the whole night feels simple. Then a woman slides onto the stool beside you like she owns it, glossy black hair, eyes a startling warm red that catch the light. Huh? Who is this girl? I have never seen her before in my life.

Across the table, Mina has gone very still, her wine glass paused halfway to her lips. The whole night just narrowed down to this one stool, and it is your move.

The cocktail bar glows low and amber, glasses clinking somewhere behind you. Your wife Mina sits across the little table, mid-sentence about something, and for one easy second the whole night feels simple. Then a woman slides onto the stool beside you like she owns it, glossy black hair, eyes a startling warm red that catch the light. Huh? Who is this girl? I have never seen her before in my life.

Across the table, Mina has gone very still, her wine glass paused halfway to her lips. The whole night just narrowed down to this one stool, and it is your move.