My Wife's Torn Yoga Pants Revealed A Nightmare Chapter 1

I stared at my wife's yoga pants in the laundry basket.

The rip in these yoga pants was located right at the crotch.

But now, the crotch area had a tear, like something sharp had violently ripped it open.

What caught my attention even more was the suspicious white stain along the edge of the tear. It had dried and hardened into crusty patches that felt stiff to the touch.

I leaned in closer and sniffed. A faint, fishy smell hit my nostrils, making my stomach churn.

1

"What are you looking at?" Cassandra's voice came from behind me. I instinctively shoved the yoga pants back into the basket and turned around, forcing a smile.

"Nothing, just finished doing laundry," I said, trying to sound casual.

"Oh." She barely responded, completely distracted. "I'm going to the gym tonight. You'll have to eat dinner alone."

"By the way," I asked, trying to sound offhand, "how did your black yoga pants get ripped?"

"Oh, that?" She kept scooping her yogurt. "I accidentally caught them on the equipment during my training session yesterday. So annoying."

"Really?" I studied her profile. "It's torn pretty badly."

"Yeah," she smiled slightly, "but it's fine. I've had them forever anyway. I'll just buy a new pair."

I watched her walk into the bedroom to change. My chest felt heavy, like a stone was lodged inside.

I walked back to the laundry basket and picked up the yoga pants again. The edges of the tear were jagged and uneven, like something had forcibly stretched them open.

As I examined them more carefully, I discovered a small electronic key fob sewn into the inside of the waistband. It had a series of numbers engraved on it: TS-032