As we were playing the Truth or Dare, the bottle stopped spinning and pointed straight at my wife’s so-called “male best friend.” He shot me a wink, lips curling into a smug grin.

“Serina’s got a scar on her ass,” he drawled. “I’m the one who put it there—with my teeth.”

The room fell silent.

My mind went blank. That scar near her tailbone... so it wasn't from rock climbing like she told me?

Seeing me frozen, he chuckled and explained, "Relax, it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing the night you two got married. Don't overthink it—it's just a little ‘souvenir' from a best friend."

Then, with a laugh, he added, "If Serina and I really had something going on, do you think I'd choose today—your third wedding anniversary—to bring it up?"

——

The air was suffocating still.

Serina picked up a peach and shoved it straight into Beckett's mouth.

"Eat, before you choke on your own nonsense."

Pinned half beneath her on the sofa, Beckett's hands slid naturally over her hips. "This peach is nothing compared to my big buddy's—ha!"

The others erupted into laughter.

Someone jumped in quickly, trying to patch over the tension. "Come on, Marvin, don’t take it so seriously. You know you can’t treat Beckett like a regular guy—he and Serina are always tossing around dirty jokes. Let’s just keep the game going!"

It wasn't the first time I'd seen this.

My fingers dug into the glass, pain pricking at my fingertips.

The beer bottle spun, then stopped—pointing at me.

"Marvin you lost! Truth or Dare?" they all chanted.

"Dare."

My voice was calm as I rose. I strode straight to Beckett, yanked down his pants, and snapped photos in one fluid motion.

By the time he screamed and scrambled to pull them back up, I had already taken a dozen shots.

Serina was the first to react, shoving me hard.

"Marvin, are you insane?!"

I smiled, raising my phone for everyone to see.

"I've just captured Beckett's family jewels. Tell me—how does this dare compare to biting someone's ass?"

The room froze. No one dared laugh.

"What's wrong? Why are you guys so quiet? Not funny anymore?" I snickered.

The words lodged in my throat like glass.

Serina's face was cold as she fussed over Beckett, helping him fix his pants like a dutiful wife.

Humiliated, Beckett clung to her arm and glared at me. "Marvin why are you being so petty? If you can't handle the game, don't play!"

I forced a laugh. "Isn't this what the game is about? Why are you taking it so seriously?"

"Marvin!"

For the eighteenth time, Serina screamed at me for his sake.

"You've gone too far! Apologize to Beckett right now!"

I was the one insulted, yet somehow, I was always the one in the wrong.

Suddenly, it all felt meaningless.

I grabbed my jacket and stood to leave.

Her hand shot out, gripping my wrist, her face dark with anger.

"Today is our anniversary. My friends are all here. Must you embarrass me like this?"

That word again. Friends. Best friend!

I shook off her grip.

Slap!

My palm cracked across her cheek. Everyone froze in shock.

The air turned to stone.

Beckett forced a laugh, looping an arm around Serina's shoulders and clamping his hand over her mouth.

"Alright, enough. Don't say anything."

His smile softened, his voice gentle. "Marvin, Serina and I are just best friends. We grew up together, running around naked. Even if I stripped bare in front of her now, she wouldn't even flinch."

Then he shoved her toward me. "Go on, apologize and leave with your husband. If you stay any longer, he'll start suspecting every woman in this room of sleeping with you."

He exchanged sly glances with the others, hiding their smirks behind their hands.

Under his urging, Serina's voice came out muffled, almost strangled.

"...Sorry."

My chest clenched hard.

If only she hadn't apologized, maybe—just maybe—there'd still be hope.

But she did.

Without a word, I turned and strode out of the room.

In the end, Serina still chased after me.

Inside the car, Serina—who usually barely said two words to me—wouldn't stop talking.

"Why do you always pick fights with Beckett? What exactly did he ever do to you?"

"I'm married, not sold to you. Don't I have the right to normal social interactions?"

"If Beckett and I really had something going on, our kid would already be old enough to run errands by now. Do you really think you'd still get the chance to argue with me about it?"

That last string in my chest finally snapped.

"Yes. You're right—it's none of my business!" I roared, unable to hold it any longer. "But damn it, I've had enough!"

The emotions I'd been suppressing for too long exploded all at once.

I turned my face toward the window, head tilted back, trying to hold back the tears.

"Serina, you remember the size of his underwear. You remember that he hates cilantro. Every time there's a group dinner, you fuss over him like a servant, scalding his bowls and silverware again and again with boiling water."

My eyes burned, and this time my tears fell.

"But you somehow managed to forget that I'm allergic to mangoes. On my birthday, you ordered his favorite mango cake. I nearly died in the hospital because of it."

"It was me who drank myself into a stomach hemorrhage for your startup. It was me who mortgaged my parents' entire savings—to pull you out of the fire. And where the hell was your so-called ‘best friend’ then? Did he ever lift a finger for you?"

"So now that you’ve made it big, Miss Rodrigo, he shows up—parading as your so-called male best friend. And you—" my chest heaved, "—you enjoy it, don't you?"

The words drained out of me like poison finally expelled. I closed my eyes.

"Serina, let's get divorced."

Silence. The only sound in the car was my muffled sobs.

I turned my head.

She was leaning quietly against the window, softly snoring in her drunken sleep.

...

I sat alone until three in the morning.

Staring at the wedding photo on the coffee table, I finally picked up the phone and dialed my lawyer.

"Sorry to bother you so late. Please draft a divorce agreement for me."

Early the next morning—I was woken by the clatter of things in the bathroom.

Serina stood in front of the mirror, applying lipstick, then lowered her head and smiled stupidly at her phone.

Suddenly, my phone chimed. As I glanced at the screen, I saw the calendar reminder. Today was my birthday.

She noticed I was awake, came over, and kissed my cheek lightly.

"Go back to sleep, hubby. I've got to head out later to check out Claire's new camping project."

She spoke casually as if nothing had happened.

It was always like this.

Every fight, every conflict—so long as I didn't press, she pretended nothing was wrong, acting her way past it all.

I opened my mouth to speak, but she had already turned away, tapping rapidly on her phone screen.

A knock came at the door.

She dropped her phone on the table and practically ran to answer it.

A sudden, sharp premonition seized me. I picked up her phone.

The screen was still lit. A group chat named "The Original Crew" was buzzing with messages.

Beckett: [I'm downstairs. Come greet your Daddy.]

My heart thudded as I scrolled up. Each message stabbed me like a thousand needles.

[Still fighting? Marvin is like a whiny woman. I told you from the start, I didn't think you two would last.]

[Five years freeloading off us, eating and drinking like an outsider. Ugh. Better to just divorce and be with Beckett instead.]

Beckett had sent a smug emoji. [I'm not even mad anymore. Serina said she's buying me an amazing camping site as a gift. Some people work their whole lives and still can't match what I get from having a good best friend.]

And right beneath that was Serina's reply. [Clinging to Mommy pays off. Now you see who really matters, don't you?]

[Muah~ Let's go have fun today. And remember—we agreed, no partners allowed!]

[Serina, did you see that? Beckett said as long as you come, he'll share a tent with you tonight—and take good care of you.]

An icy chill shot straight up my spine. My vision darkened.

How laughable.

Back then, it was Beckett himself who invited me into this group—he even renamed it "Fantastic 6+1."

It turned out they had built another group chat behind my back.

It wasn't as if I hadn't tried to blend in. I really had.

But in their world of "original members," I was always the outsider—an intruder who didn't belong.

My hands trembled, my chest tightened. I resisted the urge to smash her phone and instead saved every one of those chat records as proof.

By the time Serina walked back in, I had already placed her phone neatly where it had been.

She picked it up, hesitated for a moment, then said softly, "Hubby, those people are so clingy, insisting on tagging along with me. Why don't you just be good and stay home this time?"

I calmly reached for my jacket. "Claire has been my friend for more than a decade. If this project involves her, I'm going too."

She froze, then stretched out an arm to stop me.

"You never get along with them anyway. Better not come—you'll just spoil the mood."

She turned as if to leave.

I caught her wrist, locking eyes with her.

"Today is my birthday."

I didn't add anything more. It was the last chance I was willing to give her.

Outside the door, Beckett stomped impatiently.

Serina's expression instantly twisted with annoyance. She yanked her arm free with a violent shrug. "Why are you acting like some nagging old woman? What's so special about a birthday?"

My fist slammed into the doorframe. Pain shot through my knuckles, through my chest.

"Tsk, tsk!" Beckett's hand came up to pinch her cheek.

"Sis, what did I teach you? Be gentle with men. Honestly, I think Marvin's brand of sulky, petty overthinking is pretty rare—you should be grateful for him!"

Serina snorted. "He can't live without making a fuss. If he's not causing drama, he's uncomfortable."

She brushed past me as if I didn't exist, lunging instead for Beckett's side. Her hands darted into his armpits to tickle him.

"And who were you just calling your ‘sis'? Hmm? No manners! Call me Mom!"

Beckett laughed, ducking theatrically, his expression exaggerated.

"Mommy, I want milk~"

Serina smirked and arched her chest forward. "Come on then, son. Mommy will feed you until you're full!"

Their little troupe burst into laughter as they disappeared down the hall together.

I stood there, feeling suffocated, as if the air itself had been sucked out of the room.

Watching them vanish into the elevator, I finally pulled out my phone and dialed.

"Claire, wait for me at the campsite. I'll come find you."

Her reply was short. "Alright."

I've known Claire since childhood—our friendship had boundaries, clarity. I knew what real loyalty, what clean companionship, looked like.

Two years of dating. Three years of marriage.

I needed to see, with my own eyes, just how filthy, how degrading the end of my marriage would be.

The camping base was far from the city. Early autumn winds rustled cool and gentle through the mountains.

Beside rows of white tents, a group of young men and women cheered in excitement.

Claire had saved me a spot on the edge of the camp, handing me a chair.

Across the artificial lake, I saw them—a cluster of men and women circling around Beckett.

Wearing nothing but shorts, blindfolded, he stumbled forward and lunged—wrapping his arms around Serina with perfect aim.

The crowd whooped.

"Serina lost! Truth or Dare, Truth or Dare!"

"Tell us honestly—do you like Beckett?"

Beckett hooked his arm around Serina's neck, laughing as he cursed at them.

"Oi! You guys are so annoying!"

But someone shouted louder, "Oh, come on—it's obvious!"

"Forget Truth, let's go Dare! Didn't Beckett already bite Serina's ass? Come on, do it again so we can see!"

Roars of laughter filled the air.

Beckett smirked, eyes flicking toward Serina with wicked glint.

"I think that sounds like a good idea!"

Before the words had even faded, he reached for the waistband of her pants.

"Hey! Stop it!"

Serina laughed as she dodged him—her movements were light, playful, but not firm.

Suddenly, Beckett slipped, and Serina instinctively reached out to catch him.

The two of them toppled together, collapsing in a tangled heap on the soft grass.