Too much cologne, too much excitement… far too much for someone claiming he had “meetings.”

I stood in the kitchen, watching the coffee finish brewing.

In my hand… a small bottle of laxative.

This wasn’t impulsive.

It came after months of silence, phone calls that ended when I walked in, and “urgent meetings” that always seemed to happen on Friday nights.

And most of all… after the message I saw the night before:

“I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow. Don’t forget the perfume I like.”

Signed—Carolina.

The new secretary.

Elegant name. Too elegant.

I took a slow breath.

“And my coffee?” he called from the doorway, adjusting his belt with more energy than he’d shown me in weeks.
I handed it to him.

“A little surprise,” I said, smiling calmly.

I watched him drink.

One sip.
Two.
Three.

He finished it without hesitation.

That stung more than I expected… he hadn’t rushed anything I gave him in a long time.

“So where are you going all dressed up and smelling like that?” I asked, leaning casually against the frame.

“Meeting,” he said, grabbing his keys. “Important one. Strategy… projections… synergy.”

He threw those words around like they meant something.

“Synergy with lace?” I muttered.

But he was already gone.

The door shut.

Silence.

I looked at the clock.

One minute.
Two.
Five.

I sat at the table, waiting.

Ten minutes passed.

And then…

perfect timing.

“DAMN IT!” came a shout from outside.

I smiled.

I stepped onto the porch, wearing my most innocent expression.

There he was—bent over beside the car, clutching his stomach like it was about to betray him at any second.

He stumbled toward the house.

“What did you give me?!” he shouted. “I’m not going to make it to the bathroom!”
I placed a hand on my chest, pretending concern.

“Love… are you nervous?”

He froze, pale.

“Nervous?!”

“They say when you’re anxious about a date… your body reacts.”

“I WON’T MAKE IT!”

He rushed toward the stairs.

“Oh—and don’t even think about using the upstairs bathroom,” I added sweetly.

He stopped mid-step.

“Why not?”

“I’m cleaning it.”

What happened next was unforgettable.

My “corporate genius” husband, full of big words like “synergy,” scrambling upstairs with zero dignity left, his “important meeting” clearly canceled.

The bathroom door slammed.

The sounds that followed… dramatic, to say the least.

I sighed.