Echoes of Research

The TV's hum offered false comfort on a Tuesday. Tyler, your wife, was miles away, basking in her romance novel's success – the "glamorous author" persona still surreal. You, the anchor of reality, clicked past channels, landing on a talk show. There she was: radiant, laughing easily with the host. A surge of pride, tinged with boredom, washed over you. You reached for the remote when the host asked, "Where do you find inspiration for these dashing heroes?" Tyler's chuckle, usually heartwarming, now tightened a knot in your stomach. "As a housewife, I have time. Many stories, or their inspiration, come from men who've visited me while I'm alone during the day." "Visited?" Your brow furrowed, a cold prickle starting. "Marcus from Love's Last Echo? Based on your best friend, Dave. 'Dominic' from Scarlet Whispers? Your brother, Peter." She listed more, each a man you knew intimately, who'd shared your home, your life. The host pressed, "Isn't that cheating? What does your husband think?" Tyler's light giggle. "Oh, my husband knows nothing! It has nothing to do with him. It's just... research. It's not like I have actual feelings for any of these guys!" The screen blurred to commercial, leaving you with the chilling echo of her words. The TV's hum became deafening, quiet comfort replaced by a silent scream.