Hailey bit her lip until it went pale, her nails digging into her palms.

Finally, it was Kyle’s turn. He presented a clothing bag. Nova gave it the barest glance, her polite smile never wavering.

“Oh my god, it’s that pajama set from the magazine! Kyle, you’re amazing!” Julie’s voice pierced the air, shrill with excitement.

“As long as you like it,” Kyle replied simply before taking his seat beside Nova. He leaned in, murmuring, “Tired?”

Nova shook her head and lifted her water glass for a sip, as though the whole spectacle held no relevance for her.

Watching the absurd scene, I could only feel a bitter, hollow amusement.

Here were four men, using money their wives had either scrimped to save or worked hard to earn, buying gifts for another woman and currying her favor—all under the banner of “brotherhood.”

And we four wives sat there like fools, bearing witness to this grand betrayal.

The birthday party officially began. Julie took the seat of honor, flanked on either side by the four men, while we wives were squeezed into the corner of the table.

“Come on, it’s my birthday—we have to play something fun!” Julie announced, flushed from a few drinks, her eyes slightly glazed. “Let’s play King’s Cup!”

The men cheered in agreement, Nathan especially enthusiastic. “Great! Whoever loses drinks three shots!”

From the sidelines, I watched coldly, refusing to join.

The first round made Aaron the King.

He looked at the card in his hand, then at Julie’s expectant face, cleared his throat, and declared, “Numbers 2 and 5—drink a crossed-arm toast!”

No sooner had he spoken than Julie raised her card—number 2—laughing with delight.

And the number 5 card lay in Nathan’s hand.

Lily’s face wasn’t just pale—it was the bone-white of someone publicly slapped. Her lips quivered, soundlessly.

Nathan didn’t hesitate. He picked up his glass, rose, crossed to Julie, and smoothly linked his arm with hers.

“To you, bro. Happy birthday. Bottoms up!”

They both drained their glasses. Cheers exploded around them.

I watched Nathan. He never once looked my way.

In his eyes, it seemed, his wife’s feelings mattered far less than keeping face with his “bro.”

For the second round, Mark was King.

Clearly drunk, he slurred his announcement: “Number 1… feed Number 3 a cherry. With your mouth.”

Hailey shot to her feet, chest heaving.

Card Number 1 was in Mark’s own hand.

And Card Number 3, unsurprisingly, was Julie again.

“Mark, that’s… that’s not really appropriate…” Julie murmured the protest, even as she leaned in, lips already parting.

Mark plucked a cherry with his teeth and began to bend toward her.

“Mark!”

Hailey’s voice cut through the room, sharp and piercing.

Silence fell. All eyes turned to her.

Mark froze, twisting back with visible annoyance. “What’s your problem, Hailey? It’s just a game. Do you have to make a scene?”

“A game?” Hailey trembled with rage. “You play that kind of game with her? What am I to you?”

Julie instantly squeezed out a few tears, adopting a wounded look. “Please don’t be angry, Hailey. We were only fooling around. Mark’s always treated me like a little sister. It’s completely innocent.”