Her Lover Lives in My Basement

On our wedding night, my wife, Sarah, wouldn't let me touch her. She said she was too tired and asked me to wait a while.

But every night, in the dead of night, she'd sneak downstairs to the basement. When she returned, she'd always shower, and an eerie, unsettling smell would cling to her.

I asked her what she was doing.

She said she was doing yoga.

Yoga in the middle of the night? I couldn't take it anymore. One night, I secretly followed her down to the basement.

She spotted me, spun around, and grabbed the collar of my pajamas, yelling:

“Get up here!”