Stole My Snacks, Lost His Pride

Fresh out of the National Research Institute, I loaded up on my wife's favorite snacks and ordered a vibrant bouquet of roses, eager to surprise her.

I stashed the treats in her office, then stepped out to grab the flowers.

But in those fleeting minutes, a stranger had ripped open every package and devoured everything.

I glared at him. "Who gave you permission to touch those?"

He shot me a look of pure disdain. "Buzz off, flower boy. Drop your crap and scram!"

The secretary at the door snickered. "You heard the man. He's Ms. Bowman's husband. Better run before he leaves a bad review."

I pulled out my phone and called my wife. "Who is this guy in your office?"

"I told you I'm swamped today," Monica Bowman huffed. "Don't bug me with calls or your absurd questions."

Before I could turn the camera to show the scene, she hung up.

Jake Finley scoffed and lunged, his boot slamming into my knee with brutal force.

"Who do you think you are, meddling in my affairs?" he spat. "One word from me, and you're blacklisted in this city. Get lost!"

I stumbled, biting back the pain. "Do you have any idea who those snacks are for?"

He laughed, snatching the bouquet from my grasp. "Duh, they're for me. And she ordered these flowers because I wanted them. The snacks? Desserts before a feast."

My mind reeled, a buzzing roar filling my ears.

It had been only eight months since I joined the National Research Institute, and Monica had smuggled in her lover.

Before joining that program, I'd entrusted this lab and my life's work to her.

Over those three years of isolation, our daily supervised calls had been my lifeline. She'd called me a hero and painted pictures of our reunion.

I never imagined she'd give me this kind of a surprise.

"Are you her husband or something?" I demanded.

A cluster of puzzled researchers gathered at the door, nodding. "She introduced him at the holiday party. They even shared a long kiss onstage. Said they're childhood sweethearts, meant to marry."

Heat flushed my face, and I fixed my gaze on Jake. "I bought these snacks and flowers. Consider them gifts for your funeral."

"What did you say?" he roared, hurling the bouquet at me. "Do you have a death wish?"

Petals exploded in a colorful shower, littering the floor, while crushed stems lay scattered like battlefield casualties.

"Lick my shoes clean. Maybe I'll let you crawl out of here!" he demanded, grinding the flowers underfoot.