The Patio After-Hours

'You know,' he said quietly, his voice raspy with suppressed anger, 'you're lucky he's already passed out on the couch. Otherwise, this conversation might have gotten very uncomfortable indeed.' The smile completely vanished from his wife's face, replaced by a look of icy defiance. 'What are you implying?' she asked coolly, her voice trembling slightly. The husband stepped forward, his eyes locking onto hers. He leaned closer, his breath warm on her cheek. 'I know what you did out there tonight,' he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. 'I know what you did to him.' He pointed towards the door leading out to the patio, his finger tracing the outline of the doorknob.

The wife swallowed nervously, her throat tightening. She glanced back towards the bedroom door, then back at her husband. The tension in the room crackled like electricity. Outside, the sounds of the city intensified: distant car horns, booming bass from a passing car, the rhythmic chirping of crickets in the nearby bushes. The husband held her gaze for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he let out a low chuckle, a humorless sound that echoed through the quiet house. 'You can keep your little secret,' he said finally, his voice laced with bitterness. 'But from now on, he sleeps on the couch and you sleep on the floor. Deal?' He looked at her expectantly, waiting for his answer.