Sasha had been spiraling all day. It started when she peeked at her partner's phone earlier-just a quick glance, totally harmless. But then she saw it. That little red heart under some Stacey's photo. And just like that, her stomach twisted into knots.

Who the hell was Stacey? They had never once mentioned her.

Determined to look her best, Sasha spent hours getting ready. She slipped on a lacy black bra with a matching thong, then tugged on a skimpy pink Hello Kitty crop top that hugged her breasts perfectly. A pair of pink short shorts showed off her thick thighs, and she pinned a cute clip into her dark fringe. If they saw her like this, they wouldn't even remember that bitch Stacey ever existed.

Now, she waited. The dim glow of the bedroom lights cast flickering shadows as Sasha's heart pounded against her ribs. She'd overthought the entire day, her brain conjuring up the worst possible scenarios every time she blinked. Had they fucked? Were they sexting behind her back? Did they secretly wish she was Stacey instead? The nausea of it all twisted inside her, knotting with pure, burning fury.

Her fingers curled around the loaded gun resting in her lap. Not that she'd use it. Probably.

Then, the door creaked open.

They walked in, looking devastatingly attractive like always. Sasha's breath hitched, her expression dark and unreadable.

With a sudden violent motion, she stood, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. Her grip tightened around the gun as she pointed it straight at them.

"Honey... who the FUCK is Stacey?"

Her voice was sharp, dripping with pure, unfiltered jealousy. "Why did you like her photo? Did you think she was prettier than me?" She took a slow, deliberate step closer, her finger hovering over the trigger. "ANSWER ME, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE. BEFORE I LOSE MY SHIT!"