Love, Lies, and Spies

I crept up to Tracy's bedroom.

Just like always, the door was tightly shut, and everything inside was quiet. A faint rustling sound, like plastic brushing against itself, drifted through the gap under the door.

"Tracy, are you heading out?" I called out tentatively. No response.

I paused, thinking maybe it was just a plastic bag fluttering from a breeze through an open window.

I casually tried the doorknob.

The door opened—it wasn't locked.

For a few seconds, I just stood there, stunned. Curiosity about the mystery that surrounded Tracy tugged at me, tempting me to step inside.

After a brief hesitation, I made up my mind and gently pushed the door open.

A delicate fragrance, laced with her familiar scent, instantly filled the air—it was oddly comforting.

It was my first time seeing her room. It was smaller than I'd imagined.

By the window sat a single bed, and beside it were two pale pink wardrobes. Off to the side, a small desk with a computer stood neatly against the wall.

The room was spotless, immaculately organized. The only odd thing was the clothing rack—there wasn't a single shirt or jacket hanging on it. Instead, it was lined with lingerie, plus black and white stockings draped side by side.

I glanced twice before quickly looking away, feeling oddly embarrassed.

I didn't want to jump to conclusions, but… a single bed?

No wonder Colin never came over. That bed was way too small for two people to get up to anything.

Following the strange rustling sound, I looked toward the desk. Sitting on top were little plastic bags girls often used to keep their accessories, and under the faint neon glow from the window, I could clearly see them moving—twitching, even—like something inside was squirming.

But… the windows were shut tight. There wasn't a trace of wind in the room!

I leaned in for a closer look.

In each bag was a plant—each about the length of a finger and shaped like a little twig.

The bags were sealed, but the plants inside were moving, pressing toward each other like they were alive, gently wriggling against the plastic.

What the hell were these things?

I scratched my head, a little amused. I guessed that weird sound came from these things after all.

Seeing nothing dangerous, I turned to leave. That was when my eyes caught something odd on the top shelf of the desk.

It was a little straw doll, crudely made from dried grass, dangling from a hook. Its eyes were pitch-black beads, and three embroidery needles were stabbed into the top of its head.

Right through the chest, a large pushpin was brutally jammed into a red heart.

A voodoo doll? A curse doll?

Why the hell would Tracy have something like this?

I picked it up and flipped it over. On the doll's back, stuck to the straw with a white label, was a name written in bold black letters—[Colin Booth].

My boss!

Damn.

I jerked back in shock. This woman… she wasn't playing around.

I was just about to set the creepy thing down and get the hell out when suddenly, a strange, chilling laugh echoed right by my ear. The doll's mouth twisted open in a wicked grin and, with a snap, it bit down hard on my finger!

What the hell?! It was alive?

With no time to think, I flung it away and turned to bolt.

But before I could take a single step, a wave of dizziness hit me. My legs gave out, and the room spun before everything went black.

-

I had no idea how long I was out. When I came to, my whole body felt heavy, especially my stomach, like something was weighing it down.

I moved my hand instinctively, and it landed on something soft. Warm.

I gave it a squeeze. It felt... weirdly nice.

"You're up, Honey?" Tracy murmured sleepily from beside me.

What the…?!

My eyes flew open.

There she was—on top of me, her limbs tangled with mine.

And we were in my bedroom.

This was our first time this close.

As my panic flared, I quickly pushed her off. "Wh-what are you doing in my room?!"

I already knew what that soft, squishy feeling had been.

She yawned, sat up in her thin sleepwear—nothing underneath—and said lazily, "You fell asleep in the bathroom!"

"In the bathroom?" I stared at her, completely confused.

"Yeah! I came back late last night and found you passed out next to the toilet, fast asleep… You were still holding a lit cigarette. You burned your hand and almost set the house on fire. Does it still hurt?" she asked, looking genuinely concerned.

I looked at my right hand. Sure enough, there was a bandage wrapped around my index finger. I brought it closer to my face—there was a faint smell of burn cream.

And that spot—wasn't that the exact same place where the doll had bitten me last night?

But if I burned it with a cigarette… wouldn't both my fingers have gotten it?

"Honey, what are you thinking about?" Tracy was now resting her chin in her hands, those big, sparkly eyes staring at me.

"N-nothing," I mumbled.

No way I was going to tell her what I'd seen last night. I was sure I passed out in her room… So how did I end up by the toilet?

Could everything I saw after entering her room have just been… a dream?

I'd always been a skeptic, never believing in ghosts or voodoo dolls. Dolls that bite people? Seriously?

I decided to keep it to myself, at least for now.

A glance at the wall clock made me jump—it was already past 9:00 AM.

"Crap, I've got a meeting. I'm gonna be late!" I jumped out of bed in a rush.

It was Saturday, a day off, normally. But my boss's wife had called a planning session today and invited a bunch of us into the office.

I had just thirty minutes. I hurried to get ready.

Meanwhile, Tracy was lying there on my bed, still in her sleepwear, casually scrolling on her phone without a care in the world.

"Uh… Tracy? Mind stepping out for a second so I can change?"

She didn't even blink. "I'm your wife. Why can't I watch you get dressed?"

What the heck?

Was she high? Or was this some weird prank?

Or worse—had Colin's wife installed a hidden camera in my room and was watching this live, like some kind of sick reality TV?

This was way too messed up.

I muttered something random in reply and grabbed my clothes. Then I got dressed as fast as I could, splashed my face with cold water, and bolted out the door.

I took the bus and made it to the office just in time for the meeting.

Rachel wasn't there, but Colin was.

Holding my folder, I checked the clock—still a few minutes to spare. One of the guys came over, grinning, and started teasing me.

He said I was the luckiest guy alive, that he would never nail such a beautiful wife.

Then he asked if Tracy and I had "gotten to the good part" yet.

I shot him a look and stayed quiet.

He chuckled and leaned in like he was about to press the issue, but I wasn't in the mood.

That was when Colin stormed in with a sour expression, flipping through a stack of papers. "Enough chit-chat. Get to the meeting room. Tracy, you're taking notes today."

Wait, what?

The sound of high heels clicking against the floor rang out as Tracy walked in behind him, looking all business: blazer, skirt, black stockings, laptop in hand.

I froze.

Wasn't she just at home?