Best Revenge Ever

"I want to hurt him. I want him to feel even a fraction of this." This desire led to a revenge plan that maybe went a bit too far.

The knock came at 9:47 PM, urgent and insistent. Eddie set down his beer and crossed his one-bedroom apartment to find Abby on the other side, mascara streaked down her cheeks, still wearing her work blouse and pencil skirt. Her engagement ring caught the hallway light.

"Abby, what—"

"He cheated." She walked past him, dropping her purse by the door. "I found texts. Six months, Eddie. Six fucking months with some intern from marketing."

Eddie closed the door, his stomach dropping. He'd watched Abby and Mark for two years, seen the way she lit up talking about wedding venues and honeymoon plans. "Shit. I'm so sorry."

She paced his living room, arms wrapped around herself. "I want to hurt him. I want him to feel even a fraction of this."

Eddie poured her a glass of wine from the bottle he'd been working on. She took it, gulped half of it down.

"Wait." He felt the idea form, reckless and brilliant. "What if we make him think you cheated too? Get back at him the same way."

Abby stopped pacing. "What do you mean?"

"I'll... you know." Eddie felt heat creep up his neck. "Get off into a condom. You take a photo of your hand holding it. With the ring. Send it to him. Tell him you had a side piece too."

She stared at him. For a long moment, he thought she'd slap him or laugh. Then her lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"I like that."

They found condoms in Eddie's nightstand drawer—a three-pack he'd bought months ago, mostly expired hope. He tore one open, rolled it on, and sat on the edge of his bed.

Nothing happened.

Abby stood in his bedroom doorway, arms crossed. "Well?"

"I need a minute." Eddie closed his eyes. Thought about porn he'd watched. Nothing. The pressure, the absurdity, the fact that Abby's eyes were boring into him—it all shriveled any chance of performance.

"Here." She walked over, knelt between his legs. "Just relax."

Her hand wrapped around the condom-covered shaft, warm and sure. She stroked slowly, her thumb tracing the ridge of the head. Eddie's breath caught.

"Better?"

"Yeah." His voice cracked.

She worked him with practiced ease, her palm sliding, fingers curling. Her other hand rested on his thigh, squeezing. Eddie watched her—focused, almost clinical, but there was color rising in her cheeks too.

"Abby..."

"Shut up." But her voice had gone softer. Her grip tightened, pace quickened. Her hair fell forward, brushing his skin.

He was hard now, achingly hard. She felt it too, because she paused, looking at the condom, then at him.

"Fuck it," she whispered.

She stood, unzipped her skirt, let it pool at her feet. Her blouse followed. She climbed onto his lap, straddling him, the condom pressing against the damp fabric of her panties.

"Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything." She reached down, guided him to her entrance. "You're my best friend, Eddie. And I need this. I need you."

He couldn't argue. Couldn't think. She sank down, and the world narrowed to heat and pressure and Abby's gasp against his ear.

They fucked like it was the end of the world. Hard and desperate, him gripping her hips, her nails raking down his back. She rode him until she came, shuddering, mouth open against his shoulder. He followed, thrusting up, spilling into her with a groan that felt like it came from somewhere deep and broken.

They collapsed together, breathing ragged.

Then Abby shifted, and her face went pale. "Eddie."

"What?"

She lifted herself off him. The condom—what was left of it—dangled loose. Split along the side.

"Oh fuck."

"Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck." She scrambled off, grabbed her phone. "I'm not..."

"Fuck the plan." Eddie sat up, pulling off the broken condom, staring at it like it had betrayed him. "We're done. This was..."

"A mistake." She said it fast, too fast. "A revenge that went too far."

"Right."

They dressed in silence. Abby left without looking back. The door clicked shut.

Eddie threw the condom away. Drank the rest of his beer. Told himself he'd forget.

Three weeks passed.
They didn't talk about it. Went back to office small talk, coffee runs, pretending nothing had changed. But Eddie noticed the way Abby's hand sometimes drifted to her stomach. Noticed the way she'd get quiet at lunch, staring at nothing.

Then, on a Tuesday afternoon, his phone buzzed.

A photo.

A pregnancy test. Two pink lines.

And a caption that made his blood run cold and hot at the same time:

"Best revenge ever."