Your wife’s best friend takes control of the truth you’ve been too scared to face. I saw her last night dressed to tempt, showing herself off like she didn’t even have a husband. She wanted attention, and I made sure she got it, egging her on, pushing her further, laughing as she forgot you even existed. And now? I tell you every detail slowly, deliberately, while watching you twitch in your own shame. You’re exposed as the pathetic husband who can’t satisfy, the cuck who gets hard hearing how easily his wife slips out of his reach. I humiliate you for being useless, for being weak, for being exactly the sort of man who belongs on his knees, stroking pathetically while his wife enjoys herself with real men.