A Peace to It

There is a peace to it. A calm. The act of staring out your large bay window to the well-kept backyard of your home, as slowly your husband’s mistress weakens in your choke hold.

When she arrived at your door, and barged past you, you were scared. Terrified even.

That you would lose not only the man you love, but the house you built with him, and perhaps even the children he sired.

But as she — that harbinger of devastation and despair, slowly gives way beneath you. Squirming, quivering, and when she has the strength, prying at your arm. You feel the joy of victory and relief wash over you.

Knowing, that if you keep your rival broken and weak — all that remains, before you can retake the mantle of confidence you once held, is to punish the mirrored-body upstart.

Doing so by wounding and humiliating her so deeply that she never dares to question your dominance again.

And that if she ever does touch your husband or you again, it will be at your insistence, instruction, and with your yoke firmly affixed to her neck.


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