Her Germophobia Was A Lie
Language: en
Alison, my wife, had rules. Strict, non-negotiable rules. I couldn't use the private bathroom tucked into the corner of her executive suite, and I definitely couldn't leave a single one of my personal items—not even a jacket or a pen—on her desk. It was about control, not cleanliness. I knew it, but after seven years, I'd learned to live with it. Then her little assistant, Alan, managed to spill coffee all over his pristine white shirt. Before I could even register the mess, Alison was ushering him into the restricted bathroom, telling him to shower. Not only that, she walked straight to a…