Her Lover Lives in My Basement
Language: en
On our wedding night, my wife, Sarah, wouldn't let me touch her. She said she was too tired and asked me to wait a while. But every night, in the dead of night, she'd sneak downstairs to the basement. When she returned, she'd always shower, and an eerie, unsettling smell would cling to her. I asked her what she was doing. She said she was doing yoga. Yoga in the middle of the night? I couldn't take it anymore. One night, I secretly followed her down to the basement. She spotted me, spun around, and grabbed the collar of my pajamas, yelling: “Get up here!” “You can’t go into the…