My Wife Slept With Her Idol in My Tent? Now...It's My Turn Chapter 1

My wife, Chloe, was sprawled on the living room sofa, asking the man behind her to press harder on her back.

The scene was more than intimate.

I frowned. "Keep some distance. This is our home."

Chloe glanced back, her expression pure contempt.

"God, you're so immature. It's sports therapy! We all used to do this on the team. It's team bonding."

Team bonding. Sure.

I didn't argue. Instead, I looked down at my phone and texted my childhood friend, Alice.

"Usual place tonight. New ergonomics study. Requires a partner. Very...hands-on."

Her reply came in seconds.

"No problem."

If my wife wanted "therapy," it was only fair that I got some professional consultation of my own. A true exchange of knowledge.

Julian's POV

It was 2 AM, and the bedroom was empty.

Chloe had posted online about a team seminar, saying she wouldn't be home all night.

I scrolled through my TikTok feed without expression.

The algorithm knew me well. The third video showed Jax's late-night training session.

The background was dim. In it, Chloe was perched on Jax's shoulders, her thighs clamped around his neck as he performed weighted squats, her body moving with his.

Sweat dripped from her chin onto his bare collarbone. Their laughter was wild and unrestrained.

The comments section was filled with praise.

"Perfect synergy!"

"Now that's true sportsmanship!"

I used to feel suffocated, driven to madness, seeing such physically intertwined scenes, demanding to know why she behaved that way.

But now, watching the two figures on screen, I only felt like I was looking at two frozen cuts of pork rubbing against each other.

I tapped 'like' and left a comment.

"Excellent core stability. Consider adding resistance."

At eight in the morning, Chloe came home smelling of massage oil.

She was wearing an oversized men's training shirt, the collar gaping open-clearly with nothing underneath.

"My clothes were soaked, so I borrowed Jax's."

She explained it as if it were the most natural thing, then picked up my cup and took a sip.

"The seminar was exhausting. Everyone was wiped out-too tired to even talk. Don't overthink it."

Too tired to talk, but not too tired for weighted squats?

I stared at the dark red mark on her neck.

Chloe seemed to notice and tugged her collar higher. "Jax has strong hands. It's just from the lactic acid release."

I didn't call her out. I just nodded, my voice even.

"Then his technique must be very professional."

Jax was the former captain of the sports team. After retiring, he'd opened the biggest combat gym in New York.

He was Chloe's idol, and the unofficial leader of their whole retired-athlete circle.

Once, at a team dinner, I watched him reach right into her shirt to adjust her sports bra strap-in front of everyone.

His reason was perfectly pure.

"The strap's sitting wrong. It'll chafe your trapezius and kill your power output."

I slammed my hand on the table back then.

But Chloe erupted in anger, smashing the wine glass in her hand.

"Jax has been looking out for me for over a decade! He does that to protect my athletic career! Why are you so filthy-minded?"

The teammates around us burst into laughter, their eyes full of mockery.

"Are you crazy from all that studying? We athletes aren't so formal."

"Exactly, if Jax hadn't helped her loosen her muscles back then, she would have lost that gold medal long ago."

In that circle, they had their own closed-loop logic.

If anyone questioned their physical contact, they would accuse them of desecrating the spirit of sportsmanship.