Eight Lives, One Love The Death Loop Marriage

I was scrolling through my phone while filling up the tank on my way home when a trending post on a local forum caught my eye:

"The college guy I'm seeing on the side wants to come to my place, but my husband comes home at random times. How do I keep him from finding out?"

One reply read:

"I've got experience with this. We have two parking spots, and whenever I'm hooking up at home, I park my car sideways across both of them. That way, when my husband gets back and can't park, he calls me. While I go down to move the car, my guy slips out. Been doing this for six months and haven't been caught once."

The comments were full of people praising her genius. The original poster had even liked the reply.

I never commented on drama posts. I was strictly a lurker. But I couldn't help myself this time.

"You people are disgusting. Karma's coming for you."

Then I drove home and saw my parking spot taken up by my wife's car, parked sideways across both spaces.

——

My wife. The woman who drove like she was taking a road test every single day. Who never so much as grazed a line. Her car was sitting diagonally across both spots like a barricade.

I slammed the brakes. The post flashed through my mind.

It's a coincidence. Has to be.

Ethel Pruitt was known for loving me like I was her whole world.

We'd dated for five years, been married for two. Seven years total, and she'd been nothing but devoted the entire time. Thoughtful in ways most people couldn't even imagine.

She knew I loved cars, so she'd bought me a Maybach for my birthday. She'd even purchased the parking spot right next to hers.

Worried I didn't have enough driving experience, she always pulled her car a little closer to her own side whenever she parked, just to give me an extra eight inches of room. Every single time. Without being asked.

A woman who thought about me that carefully, who put me first in every little detail of her life, there was no way she'd do something like that.

But the post wouldn't leave my head.

I sat there staring at Ethel's car for a long time. Then I made a decision.

I didn't call her to come move it.

Instead, I pulled into a temporary spot nearby, killed the engine, and got out. Then I walked home.

I wanted to see if there really was a cheating wife inside, waiting for the phone call that would signal her to come move the car.

At the front door, I slipped my key out slowly and turned the lock as quietly as I could.

The moment the door opened, I went straight for the bedroom. The door was half-open. Through the gap, I could see the room was empty.

I turned to the guest bedroom.

Pushed the door open. No one.

The study. The bathroom. The balcony. I even checked the storage closet.

Every room was silent. Not a soul.

Where was Ethel?

Just as the question formed in my mind, the kitchen door swung open.

Ethel stepped out wearing an apron, carrying a plate of food.

She spotted me and froze, surprised.

"Honey? You're home so early today?"

She set the plate down on the dining table and gave me a warm smile.

"I was planning to make a few more dishes before you got off work. You're back too soon. I'm not even finished yet."

I glanced past her into the kitchen. Chopped vegetables were lined up on the cutting board. A pot of pork tripe and lotus seed soup, my favorite, was simmering on the stove.

She'd clearly been in there for a while.

The tension drained out of me. I managed a small smile.

"Nothing going on at the office today, so I left early."

Ethel nodded. "Go rest for a bit, then. Let me finish the last two dishes and dinner will be ready."

She turned and headed back into the kitchen.

I watched her bustle around, her back to me, and the question slipped out before I could stop it.

"Why'd you park your car sideways across my spot today?"

Ethel glanced back at me, looking a little sheepish.