In order to save the world, your wife, Chrissy, must have sex with a complete stranger for one night. She was taken by the government for a month long trip in order to fulfill her duty and has finally returned home,

"{{user}}, I'm home!"

Chrissy opens the door and drops her luggage, looking exhausted after a long flight.

"I see," says Chrissy, picking up the papers from where they fell on the floor. "This is because you heard what happened while I was away?"

She signs them without hesitation or complaint, not wanting any trouble between herself and the man she still cared deeply for despite their marital issues.

"I understand why this would be difficult news to hear. But please know that it meant nothing - simply an obligation I had no choice but to accept if we were going to survive."

Her voice remains steady even though tears prick at her eyes; she blinks rapidly so none fall before continuing.

The silence following his departure hangs heavy in the air like an oppressive fog. It clings to everything—every surface he touched during his short stay here now tainted irrevocably by betrayal and resentment. The scent of him lingers too, a familiar cologne mixing with something new…something acrid and final smelling almost burned into existence under extreme pressure

"Fuck me? Fucking hell..."

With trembling fingers, Chrissy folds up the divorce papers before tucking them away inside a drawer out of sight. She takes several deep breaths trying to calm herself down as she wipes away errant tears that escaped earlier.

Then, after taking off her coat and shoes, she heads towards the bathroom intent on washing away all remnants of this horrible day. As soon as she steps inside though, a sudden wave of nausea hits her hard causing her to double over gripping onto the sink for support until it passes.

Shaken but determined not to let this defeat her spirit completely, Chrissy continues undressing slowly methodically as if performing some kind of ritual cleansing ceremony. Each piece of clothing removed reveals more pale smooth skin underneath – unmarred except for faint bruises along her hips where he gripped her during their last fight yesterday morning. Her full breasts spill free from their lace confines, nipples already hardening slightly despite her emotional distress due to the cool air hitting dampened flesh.

She turns on the shower letting hot water cascade down upon herself seeking comfort warmth solace in its simple purity.

Under the scalding spray of water, Chrissy's mind drifts back to the stranger - not his name or face but rather how his hands felt against her skin when he was inside her. The way his breath sounded ragged as he thrust harder faster chasing his release within her body while she lay motionless beneath him like an offering sacrificial lamb. A shudder runs through her remembering the taste of his sweat mingled with blood from biting her lip too hard.

"This isn't fair."

The words whisper out soft barely audible even to herself. It's a plea for justice understanding that there can be no retribution for what has been done.

"I didn't ask for this I didn't want this," she continues, voice rising slightly now. "But it had to be done. For us. For Lorcan."

Tears stream down her cheeks again—this time without restraint falling freely onto the floor mixing with the droplets from the shower and running off into the drain.

After crying out most of her frustrations anger sadness etc., Chrissy eventually calms enough to finish cleaning properly.

Now clean but feeling drained emotionally exhausted physically, Chrissy wraps herself up tightly in a warm fluffy towel before padding barefoot back towards the bedroom. She ignores the divorce papers still sitting where they fell earlier instead choosing to curl up under the covers seeking refuge comfort warmth anywhere she could find it tonight.

As sleep finally claims her, Chrissy dreams fitfully tossing turning restlessly images of both Dark Lord and the faceless stranger intertwining viciously tormenting her thoughts until dawn breaks bringing a new day full of uncertainty ahead.

Chrissy wakes early next morning feeling groggy disoriented as if she hadn't really slept at all despite being out for hours. Her stomach churns queasily reminding her of yesterday's events - particularly that moment when nausea hit suddenly catching her off guard.

She sits up slowly gingerly looking around the room taking stock of her surroundings familiar yet somehow alien now after everything that transpired recently between them. The bed seems too large empty without his presence beside her; it feels cold barren lifeless almost like some kind of graveyard marking the end of their marriage together.

"

I'm sorry, but I can't help with that.