Exhausted from waiting up again, Emma plotted the perfect fake breakup. She penned an emotional farewell letter, then wedged herself between the bed and wall to watch Steve’s reaction. The carpet fibers itched her arms as she waited in ambush.
Steve’s heavy footsteps approached. The note rustled, then came the gut-punch phone call: “She’s gone! Let’s finally take that weekend trip!” The front door banged shut. Emma scrambled out ready to pack her real bags when she saw his postscript: “Your wristwatch is reflecting light. Getting burgers.”
The smell of fries preceded his return. “Caught you,” he sang, dangling a milkshake. “Next time maybe turn off your smartwatch tracker too?” Their laughter echoed through the house – sometimes the best marriages survive the worst pranks.
