"He used to tell me she was like a leech—clingy, shameless, impossible to shake off.
But now, he’s the one glued to that leech like a beast in heat, insatiable and wild."
On the projection screen, my husband’s upper body was bare, muscles tense with lust.
The woman had her legs wrapped around his waist, fingers tangled in his hair.
Over and over, she cried out,
“Do you love me? Say you love me!”
He let out a cold laugh and sank his teeth into her neck, ruthless.
“Listen closely—I don’t love you.
I only love my wife. You’re just a tool.”
I sighed and turned to my daughter.
“Are you sure you want to leave with Mommy? Once we go, you’ll never see Daddy again...”
She nodded.
I began wondering what kind of “accident” would look the most convincing.
That’s when my daughter said calmly:
“What about a gas explosion?”
