My husband had to attend a Christmas party at work, so I jokingly wrote on his chest:

“This is my husband; if you touch him, you’ll pay for it.”

He returned home in the morning and was slightly intoxicated.

When I helped him undress and put him to bed, I saw a reply on his back saying:

“I’ll remember that for next time.”

Chapter One: The Unknown Reply

The crimson letters stood out vividly against the pale expanse of his skin, trailing slightly where the ink had run like wine down a stained tablecloth. Shivers danced up my spine, not from the December chill seeping through our drafty apartment windows, but from the bewildering message before me.

I stumbled back into the hallway, my mind racing through an entire rolodex of potential candidates who might have scrawled on him during the party.

Tom, oblivious to the turmoil he had unintentionally seeded, drifted into a deep, undisturbed sleep, his chest gently rising and falling, the earlier red threat mocked by this unexpected retort.

As I watched him, snippets of our lives together unfurled in my head—a montage of first dates, shared dinners, whispered confessions. His fidelity had never been in question, nor had mine.

I mustered the courage to take a photo of the cryptic words, my hands trembling just enough to blur the shot. I needed to unwrap this mystery before my imagination coerced reality into submission, before innocent acquaintances became unwitting conspirators in my mental narrative.

Chapter Two: The Unraveling

Morning light sifted through our thin curtains, waking Tom slowly. He stirred, groaned, and squinted at me as if remembering my presence only added to the throbbing behind his temples.

“Linda, why’re you looking at me like that?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep and residual alcohol-induced lethargy.

I chose my words carefully, tired of losing sleep to imaginary confrontations performed against the bathroom mirror’s backdrop. “Do you remember anything from last night?”

He sat up slowly, eyes widening, probably perceiving the weight in my expression. The memory of the party fitfully resurfaced like a malfunctioning film projector—disjointed, unsteady. “Not much after the tequila shots. Why, did I do something stupid?”

I sighed, not sure whether to be exasperated or empathetic. “You didn’t—but someone else did. Quite creatively, I should add.” I showed him the grainy snapshot on my phone as he leaned closer, eyes narrowing in confusion at first, then clearing into startlement.

“What the heck, Linda! Who would—?” His voice trailed off, uncertainty pooling in his gaze.

“My thoughts exactly,” I replied, feeling my irritation soften into a shared puzzle we suddenly had to solve together.

Chapter Three: From the Beginning

We started to recount everything about the Christmas party. Tom mentioned coworkers I barely knew beyond the casual pleasantries exchanged at corporate events. Carol from marketing, with her easily forgettable face but a penchant for loud jewelry, had been unusually friendly.

Dan, Tom’s boss, known for making inappropriate jokes, had dared everyone to drink up to “unleash the holiday spirit.” The rest were an amorphous mix of half-forgotten names and faces.

I prodded further, partly playing detective, partly grasping for the solid ground that our normalcy had just days ago effortlessly provided. “Any chance someone you know well could be behind this? Anyone who might just be… I don’t know, being silly?”

Tom shrugged, the heaviness of the morning’s surprise etched in the slack of his shoulders. “No one comes to mind, honestly, which makes it even stranger. Who takes a warning written in good humor and turns it into… this?”

I knew we were skirting around a wound neither of us wished to probe further—a silent agreement to let worries sleep as fitfully as Tom had done.

Chapter Four: Unintended Revelations

The atmosphere in our apartment hung with a tangible air of untapped secrets. Tom left for work, uttering promises to chase down leads while maneuvering his colleagues’ suspicious sideways glances. It wasn’t lost on me how those would sting in an office swamped in holiday smiles and surface pleasantries.

I busied myself at my usual morning rituals, but the damning image lingered in thought, like a smudge refusing to be erased. To stave off the sense of unease, I made inventory of my own private investigations, starting with a call to Mary.

Mary was my closest confidante—the type of friend who’d join even a foolish quest out of loyalty. Her voice sang over the line, bright and curious, before dipping knowingly into the sound of kind concern as I relayed the story. “Listen, if you want, we could drop by Tom’s office. Grab lunch, see if anyone breaks into a sweat at our sudden interest in their workplace. Just saying.”

I laughed, grateful for her unwavering support, and resolved to take her idea seriously, if not today, then soon.

Chapter Five: A Miserable Misunderstanding

Even as the day wore on with my impending shift, my thoughts grazed like cattle on the untouched field of our strange predicament. The phone buzzed, Tom’s name flashing across the screen.

“Hey,” he began, hesitation strung through his word like garland. “Something odd happened. Remember that gift exchange raffle we did? Someone left a note in my drawer. It said, ‘Hope to see you again soon.’ That sound any bells?”

I bit my lip, twining the cord of my anxiety tighter. Tom continued, “It seems they might have… misinterpreted your warning.”

The call disconnected after our promise to return home and regroup—a vow to assemble our defenses and, if necessary, change strategies.

On the subway ride back, the grind of wheels over tracks served as an unexpected lullaby, steering my mind toward benign possibilities. Could the note have been an innocent joke gone awry? Or a misplaced sentiment never intended for my husband?

Chapter Six: The Confrontation

True to form, Mary and I took up her proposal. Clad in unshakeable resolve, we marched into Tom’s firm under the guise of lunch delivery—a cardboard barrier of sandwiches as our shield. As we entered the office floor, Carol from marketing was the first to greet us.

Back at Tom’s cubicle, I approached with caution, my senses alert, heightened as if I were a hound tracking a scent. A quick glance told me there was one note in his drawer, tucked beneath some reports—a simple Christmas card. I carefully opened it.

Inside it read, “Our little secret to remain just between us. Thanks for the laugh. C.”

Relief fizzed through me, scattering my earlier worries. Carol’s shrug and wink when I turned confirmed our thoughts—no illicit liaison, merely a harmless prank between coworkers.

Chapter Seven: A Brighter December

My relief swirled into laughter, spilling over at the unexpected relief. We celebrated with coffee and shared stories with Tom, who joined in the cheer, our spirits buoyant as ever. Curled up on the couch, our glasses clinked, and the warmth between us thawed the recent chill.

We reveled in our regained comfort, the distant peaks of Christmas candled kindly by the glow of friendship and shared understanding.

Conclusion

Thus, the mystery of the red ink resolved, laying to rest fears conceived in the shadows. We realized how the playful twist of fate had prompted us to appreciate our humor and our trust in one another.

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