As we sat down for what was supposed to be a special night, I asked Fiona a question. She looked up, a bit startled, and replied, “Oh, yeah. Just checking something quick.” I nodded, trying to hide my disappointment. This was our anniversary, but it felt like Fiona’s mind was somewhere else. The waiter approached with menus and a smile. “Can I interest you in our anniversary special? A bottle of champagne to start?”
“That sounds perfect,” I said, smiling at Fiona. “What do you think, honey?” But she was still glued to her phone. “Hm? Oh, sure. Whatever you want,” she muttered, barely looking up. I sighed and ordered the champagne. As the waiter walked away, I reached across the table and gently touched Fiona’s hand. “Hey, can we put the phones away? It’s our anniversary.”
Fiona looked up, a little guilty. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just this new video series I found—”
I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice. “Another prank channel?”
“They’re hilarious, Aidan! You should see some of these—” she started to say, but I tuned out as she excitedly described the latest viral prank. My mind wandered back to the past few weeks, and I felt a tight knot forming in my stomach.
It all started so innocently. Fiona had found some funny videos online and we’d laughed together, enjoying the harmless fun. But soon, Fiona began trying to recreate the pranks at home. There was the time she jumped out from behind the shower curtain, nearly giving me a heart attack. Then she put a fake spider in our daughter Nora’s lunchbox, making her cry at school. And who could forget the “broken” glass prank that left our son Callum too scared to touch anything in the kitchen for days? Each time, Fiona would laugh and say, “It’s just a joke! Don’t be so serious!” But I’d seen the fear in our kids’ eyes and felt the constant tension in my own shoulders. It wasn’t funny anymore. It was exhausting.
I snapped back to the present as the waiter returned with our champagne. Fiona was still talking, her hands flying as she described some YouTuber’s latest stunt. Suddenly, she stood up. “I need to use the restroom. Be right back.” I watched her walk away, feeling a growing unease in my stomach. Something wasn’t right.
A loud commotion erupted behind me. I turned to see Fiona stumbling between tables, clutching her throat. “I can’t breathe!” she gasped, falling to her knees. “Help me!”
The restaurant erupted into chaos. People rushed to help, shouting for someone to call 911. I sat there, frozen in shock, unable to process what was happening. Then, just as suddenly, Fiona started laughing. “Just kidding!” she announced, standing up. “It was a prank!”
The silence that followed was unbearable. I could feel the eyes of every person in the restaurant staring at us. Fiona just grinned, completely oblivious to the horror on everyone’s faces.
“Ma’am, that was extremely inappropriate,” the manager said as he approached our table, his voice stern. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
I stood up, my anger barely contained. “I’m leaving,” I said tightly. “Without my wife. You can get an Uber home on your own.” Fiona’s smile faded. “Aw, come on. It was just a joke!”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t even look at her. I rushed out to the car and drove off before she could react—besides, she’d have to settle the bill anyway.
As soon as I got home, I went straight to the kids’ rooms. “Pack a bag,” I told Nora and Callum. “We’re going to Uncle Declan’s for a bit.”
An hour later, I was knocking on my brother Declan’s door with two sleepy kids in tow. Declan took one look at my face and ushered us inside without saying a word. “Guest room’s all yours,” he said, helping me with the bags. “Want to talk about it?”
I shook my head. “Not tonight. Thanks, bro.”
My phone buzzed constantly with messages from Fiona, but I ignored them and tried to get some sleep. The next morning, I woke up to find 37 missed calls and twice as many texts. I scrolled through them, feeling my anger flare up again. “You’re overreacting.” “It was just a joke!” “How could you embarrass me like that?” “You owe me an apology.”
I tossed the phone aside in disgust. How could she not see how wrong she was? As if on cue, my phone rang again. This time, it was Greta, Fiona’s mom. I hesitated before answering. “Aidan! What’s this I hear about you abandoning my daughter at a restaurant?” Greta’s voice was shrill with anger.
I took a deep breath. “Hi, Greta. It’s not what you think.”
“Oh? Then explain it to me, young man. Because from where I’m standing, you left your wife alone on your anniversary. That’s pretty low.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache forming. “Fiona pulled a prank, Greta. A bad one. She pretended to choke in the middle of a crowded restaurant.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “She did what?”
I recounted the events of the previous night, including Fiona’s growing obsession with pranks and how it was affecting our family. When I finished, Greta was silent for a long moment. Then she sighed heavily. “Oh, Aidan. I had no idea it had gotten this bad.”
“Yeah, well. Now you know.”
“I… I don’t know what to say. If things are really this bad, I… I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted a divorce.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Divorce? Was that where we were headed?
“I don’t know, Greta,” I said honestly. “I just need some time to think.”
After we hung up, I sat on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands. Was this really the end of our marriage? I spent the day in a fog, just going through the motions of taking care of the kids. By evening, I’d made up my mind. I called Fiona. “Meet me at the restaurant tomorrow at 7 p.m. We need to talk.” She agreed right away, sounding relieved. I hung up before she could say more.
The next night, I arrived at the restaurant early. My palms were sweaty as I clutched the envelope containing the divorce papers I’d had drawn up that afternoon. When Fiona walked in, she looked different—smaller, more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her. Her eyes were red and swollen, and her hair was a mess. “Hi,” she said softly as she sat down next to me.
“Hi,” I replied, my throat tight. We sat in awkward silence for a moment. Then Fiona burst out, “Aidan, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you or the kids. I just got carried away with the pranks and—”
I held up a hand to stop her. Without a word, I slid the envelope across the table. Fiona’s hands shook as she opened it. Her eyes widened as she realized what she was looking at.
“No,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Please, Aidan, no. We can work this out. I’ll stop the pranks, I promise. Please don’t leave me.”
I let her cry for a moment, my own eyes stinging with tears. Then I took a deep breath. “It’s a prank,” I said quietly.
Fiona’s head snapped up. “What?”
“The divorce papers. They’re not real. It’s a prank.”
Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. I leaned forward, my voice firm. “This is what it feels like, Fiona. This is how your pranks make us feel. Scared, hurt, betrayed. Is this what you want for our family?”
Fiona’s face crumpled. “No,” she sobbed. “God, no. I’m so sorry, Aidan. I never realized…”
I reached across the table and took her hand. “I love you, Fiona. But this has to stop. No more pranks. Ever. Can you promise me that?”
She nodded vigorously, squeezing my hand tight. “I promise. No more pranks. I’ll delete all those stupid videos. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
I exhaled slowly, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. “Okay,” I said. “Then let’s go home.”
As we stood to leave, Fiona hesitated. “Aidan? Thank you for not giving up on us.”
I pulled her into a hug, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair. “We’re in this together,” I whispered. “For better or worse, remember?”
She laughed softly, a sound I realized I’d missed. “I remember. Let’s aim for ‘better’ from now on, okay?”
I nodded, feeling cautiously hopeful for the first time in weeks. As we walked out of the restaurant hand in hand, I knew we had a long way to go. But at least now, we were on the same page. And for once, there wasn’t a prank in sight.
What would you have done?
