My Husband Called Her Late-night Flirty Pic A Mistake

"Explain this, Jack."

Sama Arthur’s voice didn’t shake, but the phone in her hand felt like a live grenade. She held the screen inches from her husband’s face. On it, a woman in a low-cut red silk slip pouted at the camera, her cleavage spilling over the lace. The text underneath read: I think my new nightie is a bit tight. Why don't you come over and check if it fits?

Jack Monroe, the man who had occupied her heart for eight years, blinked. The heat from their intimate moment on the couch hadn't even cooled yet. He was still shirtless, his skin damp, his eyes usually full of a warmth that Sama now realized might just be a well-rehearsed mask.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Jack asked. He reached for her waist, his touch a familiar brand that usually made her blood hum. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Sama shoved the phone harder against his chest. "I said, explain it. Now."

Jack glanced at the screen. His jaw tightened for a fraction of a second—a tell she’d learned to spot over nearly a decade of marriage. Then, with the practiced calm of a high-level executive, he grabbed the phone and hit redial. He put it on speaker.

"Mr. Monroe? Is everything okay?" A woman’s voice, breathy and frantic, filled the quiet living room.

"Pete, I wasn't aware that my secretary had started soliciting clients in her spare time," Jack said. His voice was like ice, devoid of any affection.

"Oh god, Mr. Monroe! I am so sorry!" the woman, Pete Toby, stammered. "That message... it was for my boyfriend! I must have tapped your name by mistake in the contact list. I’m so embarrassed, please don't—"

"Next time it happens, pack your bags," Jack snapped, cutting her off. He ended the call and tossed the phone onto the cushion. He turned to Sama, his expression softening into that gentle, pleading look that always made her feel like the unreasonable one. "See? A mistake. She’s a klutz, Sama. If it makes you feel better, I’ll fire her tomorrow morning. We haven't seen each other all week. Don't let a stray text from a bored secretary ruin our night."

He leaned in to kiss her, his lips ghosting over her jawline. "You owe me tonight, baby."

Sama felt a cold knot form in her stomach. The explanation was perfect. It was too perfect. She pushed his chest, creating space between them that felt like a canyon. "I’m tired, Jack. Let’s just go to sleep."

Jack’s eyes flashed with a brief, sharp disappointment. "Fine. You go ahead. I’m not sleepy yet, so I’ll head to the study to finish those reports from the trip."

"Fine," Sama muttered, wrapping her robe tighter around her body.

The storm broke at 3:00 a.m.

Thunder rattled the windowpanes of their bedroom, a violent crack that pulled Sama from a shallow, nightmare-filled sleep. She reached across the king-sized bed, her hand searching for the heat of