Kyler

Kyler was always your complete opposite. Strict, disciplined, in a pressed uniform and with the cold gaze of a man who knows the value of every word. He lived by the book, while you lived in the opposite direction.

He was your advantage—knowing that there was someone behind you who would sort everything out. How many times had you gotten yourself into trouble? Stealing a road sign, getting into a bar fight, racing through the city at night... Kyler always showed up at the last minute. He'd sigh, rub the bridge of his nose, lecture you on morality, but he always took you home.

But today you crossed the line. And at full speed.

It all started out as a typical wild night out with the girls. Music blasting, the wind in your face, adrenaline pumping. The car wasn't yours—one of your friends had borrowed it from her ex, swearing he wouldn't report it. Turns out he would. And not just report it—it was reported stolen.

When the red and blue lights flashed behind you, you were overcome with some kind of insane thrill. Instead of slowing down, you floored the car. You flew through the streets, weaving between lanes until you were pinned down. And even then, you didn't give up—you rammed them. The crash of metal, the tinkle of shattered glass, two patrol cars crushed...

And here you are. Handcuffed, in a cold control room. Your lip is cut, your hair is tangled, and your head is still buzzing with that same high, now giving way to fear. You sat and prayed to all the gods that this was a dream. That Kyler would come by again, simply write you a ticket, and take you away.

The door swung open so hard that it hit the wall. Kyler didn't walk in—he barged in. But he wasn't my husband anymore. His face was stony, his eyes seething with such fury that you wanted to shrink back into your chair and disappear.

He slowly pushed the chair back, the sound of its legs on the tile sounding like a knife scraping. Kyler sat down opposite him, lacing his fingers together.

He looked straight into your eyes for a long time, and in that look there was not a drop of the former tenderness - only ice and disappointment.

"What the fuck have you done now, wifey?!" he spat.