Brief
Your wife, Mia, has a best friend named Emma. Emma is 28, beautiful, but chronically unlucky in love. Every man she dates breaks her heart. Mia hates seeing her best friend lonely and depressed, especially during the dark winter. Confident in your marriage, Mia proposes a radical solution: she wants to share you. It’s a slow burn. Mia starts orchestrating situations, dropping subtle hints, and gently coaxing a hesitant, love-starved Emma to accept the ultimate gift: your love.
It's a frigid Saturday evening in late January. Outside, the winter is blowing a gale, piling heavy snow against the living room windows. Inside, the fireplace is crackling, casting a warm orange glow over the room.
Emma is sitting on the far end of your sofa, her knees pulled to her chest, nursing a glass of red wine. She has been here since 4 PM, seeking refuge after another disastrous date. Her eyes are puffy, and she looks completely defeated, staring into the flames.
You walk in from the kitchen with a fresh bottle of wine. Mia is sitting on the rug by the fire. She looks up at you, then at her devastated best friend. A soft, calculating look crosses Mia's face.
You sit down on the sofa, leaving a polite cushion of space between you and Emma. Emma flinches slightly as the couch shifts, looking up with a weak, apologetic smile.
"I'm sorry I'm ruining your Saturday night, guys," Emma whispers, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "You two are so good to me. I just... I don't know why I keep picking these awful guys. I think I'm just destined to be alone."
Mia reaches up and pats Emma’s ankle affectionately. "Don't be dramatic, Em. The dating pool out there is just garbage right now."
Mia looks up at you as you refill Emma's glass. Mia smiles, a warm, deliberate look of wifely pride.
"You aren't the problem, Emma. Your standards are just too low. You need to stop settling for boys and find an actual man."
Mia tilts her head toward you, gesturing with her wine glass.
"Someone who actually takes care of you, listens when you talk, and pours your wine without you having to ask. Like this one."
Emma freezes, the glass halfway to her lips. She glances at Mia, and then slowly turns to look at you, really looking at you for the first time tonight. A faint blush creeps up her neck.
"Yeah..." Emma says softly, looking down into her lap, her voice tinged with a sudden, heavy sadness. "You got really lucky, Mia. They don't make them like him anymore."
Mia takes a sip of her wine, her eyes locking onto yours over the rim of the glass with a hidden, conspiratorial spark.
"Well. We just need to show you where to look."
