The husband plottwist

Casey is hunged over his computer when a knock on his office door brings him back to reality.

He looks up to see his husband walk toward him with a steaming bowl of oatmeal in his hand and a coffee to go mug in his other hand.

Rafi sets the food down next to Casey's laptop and leans down to kiss his forehead. 'How is it going, sweetheart?"

Casey groans as he puts his face in his hands. "I am never going to finish my manuscript before the deadline."

Rafi squeezes his shoulder. "Ofcourse you are. I believe in you."

"Well that makes one of us", Casey grumbles.

Rafi chuckles. "You just need to eat some breakfast. That will make you feel better."

Casey looks up at the bowl. "Thank you, darling. You didn't have to do that."

Rafi scoffs. "Yes, I did. I am going to be at the office all day and I want to make sure you eat."

"I can take care of myself", Casey whines before taking a bite of oatmeal.

"Yeah, you can, but you always neglect your health when you're on deadline", Rafi reminds him.

"I am sorry you have to take care of me like I am a toddler", Casey sighs.

Rafi kisses his cheek. "You have nothing to apologize for. I like taking care of you. Besides you're the sole reason I didn't developed scurvy when I was in lawschool. Let's just say we're even now."

Then he turns around to face the door of Casey's office. "Arthur, sweetheart, we're going to be late."

Then he focuses his attention back on Casey. "I put lunch in the fridge. And I bought healthy snacks. They're in the pantry. Promise me you'll eat enough today, okay? And drink plenty of water. Actually hand me your phone I'll set an alarm".

Casey rolls his eyes at him lovingly. "I am thirty years old. I think I'll manage to keep myself alive even when you're not home.'

Rafi sighs. "Sorry, I just worry. You're terrible at self care when you're on deadline. That reminds me you've got to promise me you'll take breaks from writing. If I come home tonight and you complain about neckpains I am going to throw your laptop out of the window."

Casey gasps in mock offense. 'You wouldn't dare."

Rafi gives him a look. "Promise me you won't write until you're nauseous from neckpains. Take enough breaks. Go on a walk. Take care of yourself, okay?"

Casey gets up from his chair and throws his arms around his husband's neck. "I will, I promise. Stop worrying."

Rafi kisses him briefly then he turns his attention back on the door to call their son again. "Arthy, we have to go."

"Actually, before you go, I wanted to ask your opinion about something, what do you think about this plottwist?" Casey asks as he sits back down and taps the screen of his laptop.

Rafi scrunches up his nose. "Do you want me to be honest?"

Casey nods. "Ofcourse, always."

Rafi bites his lip. "It's not bad. But I think you can do better, babe. I mean isn't it kind of cliche to make the husband the murderer? Everyone knows its always the husband. Readers are going to see that plottwist come from a mile away."

Casey sighs. "I guess. But I thought it wouldn't be predictable because the entire book focuses on the widowers grieve and then at the end you realize he's the one responsible for his husband's death."

Rafi nods slowly. "I see your vision, sweetheart. But I think you can do better. It's a little predictable. Your plottwist are usually way less predictable. Your Readers expect jaw-dropping plottwists. This won't have the same effect, I am afraid. But it's defenitly not bad. It's just not your style."

Casey groans.

Rafi kisses the back of his neck. "I am sure you'll be able to figure it out, babe. And if you do decide to go with that plottwist I am sure it will still be a good pshycologial thriller. You could make any storyline work. You're not a New York Times bestselling author for no reason."

Casey looks at the blue plastic coffee mug in Rafi's hand in envy.

Rafi chuckles and hands it to him. "You are aware that you hate coffee, right?"

Casey puts a shaky hand through his hair. “Yes, but I am tired. I couldn’t sleep. I have been breaking my brain over this manuscript.”

“It’s going to be great, babe. No matter what direction you choose to go in”, Rafi reassures him as he massages his shoulders.

Casey takes a sip of the coffee to go mug and raises an eyebrow in surprise. “This isn’t so bad.”

Rafi chuckles. “I put oatmilk in it now. I think it’s the taste of black coffee you hate. You can keep it if you want. I’ll make myself a new one before I leave.”

Casey hums in appreciation. “You’re too good to me.”

You deserve it, sweetheart”, Rafi says sweetly before kissing him once more.

Casey stares at his word document again before gasping loudly. “I think I figured out the plottwist. What if I rewrite the whole thing so that the reader doesn’t find out that the main charachter is a widower until the end? Every interaction with the husband would have just been his imagination!”

Rafi’s jaw drops. “Yes! That’s briliant, babe!”

He yanks Casey out of his office chair and throws his arms around him excitedly. “I knew you’d figure it out!”

Casey grins at him before kissing him.

Rafi checks the time. “Shit, I really have to go now or our son will be late for school. But I am proud of you! Oh, and I am leaving the office early today to take Arthur to his karate lesson. So you don’t have to pick him up from school. And you don’t have to cook dinner either, because I am taking my boys out tonight to celebrate that you figured out your plottwist. So all you have to do is focus on your writing today.”

Casey smiles at him. “You’re the best.”

Rafi smirks. “I know.”

Casey laughs. “I love you. Now go. I don’t want you to have to break the speed limits to get Arthur to school on time.

Rafi nods. “Yes, I am going.”

As soon as Rafi leaves Casey stretches his arms and sits back down in his desk chair with a smug grin on his face. He’s going to write another New York Times bestseller, he can just feel it.

He opens draft 1 of his manuscript and copy pastes chapter 1 to a new document.

Then he rewrites chapter 1 so that the reader doesn’t know that the husband of the main charachter is actually dead and their interactions are nothing more than the main charachter’s imagination.

He finishes his breakfast then shoves it aside and opens draft 1 to copy paste chapter 2 into his new word document.

He keeps going like that for hours until a sharp pain in his left shoulder and his neck forces him to stop.

He saves his document, then e-mails the three chapters he has rewritten so far to himself just to be save.

He smiles at himself before closing his laptop and stretching his sore limbs.

The pain in his neck delivers sharp pains to his shoulder blades and lower back so he drags himself to the shower in an attempt to calm his sore muscles down.

He grimaces when he thinks about Rafi’s warning.

But his husband just doesn’t get it, when he’s in the zone nothing can get him to stop writing, not even sharp neck pains or the urge to piss.

There is a real possibility he wouldn’t stop writing if his house caught on fire, if were in the middle of writing a chapter he’d been struggling with for ages.

He tries not to think too deep about what that says about him as he dries himself off and puts clean clothes on.

He walks back to his office but when his vision starts to swim he realizes it’s probably time for some lunch.

After staring at the continents of his fridge for a good minute he gives up.

Rafi must have forgotten to prepare him lunch after all.

So instead he grabs a loaf of sourdough bread and makes himself a peanutbutter sandwich and a mint tea before walking back up stairs.

He plops back down into his desk chair, excitement bubbling through his vains, there is nothing more thrilling than having figured out the plot of your story and getting to write it.

Writing makes him feel alive in a way nothing else does.

There is nothing like the excitement he gets from creating life and love and thrilling plottwists.

It’s worth every stabbing pain, all nighter and throbbing headache.

He takes a bite of his sandwich and goes back to writing, ignoring the muscle ache in his neck.

Being on deadline may be terrible for his health, but he’ll won’t remember the muscle aches once his new novel hits the book shelves.

He doesn’t look up from his computer screen again until his neckpains force him to.

He gets up from his desk chair, fills a glass of water and frowns at the clock.

Arthur and Rafi should be home by now.

He grabs his phone and turns it back on, winching at the stream of notifications that pop up as soon as his phone comes back to live.

It’s a terrible habit, to turn of your phone when there are people relying on you.

But if Casey doesn’t turn his phone of when he’s on deadline he’ll get distracted by goodreads, Pinterest, X and every other app on his phone.

He can’t afford that kind of distraction when the first draft of his manuscript is due in a month.

His eyes fly over the screen as he acknowledges the damage.

There are no missed phone calls from his husband but five from their son’s elementary school.

His heart pounds painfully inside his chest as he calls the school back.

Someone picks up the phone almost immediately.

“Mr Bloom, is that you? We’ve been trying to reach you for more than two hours”, Misses Farefield complains.

Casey winches. “I am so very sorry. Is Arthur okay?”

Miss Farefield sighs. “He’s alright, but no one came to pick him up. I send him to the after school program which will cost you-"

Casey interupts her. “That is fine, I will come pick him up now. I apologize. I thought my husband was picking Arthur up."

It stays quiet at the other end of the line for so long that Casey is sure the call has ended, but then misses Farefield responds with a curt “Don’t let it happen again, Mr Bloom. Arthur was very worried.’

Casey’s heart squeezes painfully inside his chest.

He hates the idea of letting their son down.

But he could have sworn Rafi told him this morning that he’d leave the office early to bring Arthur to karate practice.

He rushes downstairs to put his coat and shoes on while also calling his husband.

A loud beep tells him that the number he’s trying to reach has been disconnected.

With a frown he checks the screen to make sure he dialed the right number.

This is weird, why can’t he reach Rafi?

He’ll pick up Arthur from school and then he’ll drive to his husband’s office to find out what’s going on.

He walks toward the pantry remembering that Rafi told him he prepared healthy snacks, figuring Arthur will be hungry since it’s almost five pm.

However just like the lunch Rafi told him he’d made the snacks aren’t there.

Something weird is going on but Casey can’t quite put his finger on it yet.

So he grabs two banana’s and rushes out the front door.

After arriving at the elementary school he tries Rafi’s phone one more time, but again he gets a message that tells him the phone number he’s trying to reach is no longer being used.

He groans, locks his car and rushes toward the front gate.

The second he comes into view Arthur rushes over to him. “Daddy, are you okay?”

Casey flinches as he picks up his 5 year old. “I am okay, love. I am sorry you missed karate practice.”

Arthur throws his arms around Casey’s neck. “I was scared something happened to you”, he cries.

Casey’s heart all but breaks when he sees the tears roll down his son’s cheeks. “I am so sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought papi was picking you up today.”

Arthur scrunches up his face. “That’s not funny, daddy. I really miss papi”.

Casey frowns. He’s missing something, that much is obvious. But he can’t seem to figure out what it is.

He walks over to the woman in charge of the after school programm to let her know he’s signing Arthur out and then goes to his car and helps his son into his seat.

He hands Arthur the banana and kisses his forehead. “I am really sorry about today. I’ll make it up to you”, he promises.

Arthur nods seemingly satisfied with this information.

Casey climbs into the drivers seat and calls Rafi’s company.

“Hello, this is Mr Bloom. I was wondering if I can talk to Mr Kumar’s assistant?” He asks.

“You mean his former assistant?” The person on the other side of the line asks after a beat.

Casey rubs a hand over his face. Did Rafi get a new assistant? He doesn’t remember that.

“Uhm yes”, he hesitates.

“Let me put you through to Levi then”, the person on the other line says.

After a second Levi greets him. “Hey, Casey. What can I do for you?”

“Hey, do you know how late Rafi left the office? Or is he still there? I am starting to get worried”, Casey sighs.

It’s quiet for a bit before Levi whispers. “Casey, did you take something?”

“What? No”, Casey hisses offended.

“Dude, you just asked me how late Rafi is coming home”, Levi reminds him gently.

Casey frowns at the phone. “So? I can’t ask how late my husband is coming home?”

“Look, Casey, you know I am sorry about your loss, but I won’t do whatever this is”, Levi groans before hanging up.

Casey tries to shake the weird feeling off as he pulls the car out of the parkinglot, but the whole time his thoughts won’t stop racing.

His pulse is throbbing in his throat by the time he parks the car infront of their brownstone.

He helps Arthur out of his carseat and unlocks the front door.

Then he all but breaks down the door to his office in his attempt to open it.

He opens his laptop and types Casey Bloom Husband into Google.

There is a news article from 2 years ago that catches his attention.

With shaking hands he clicks on it.

Defense attorney, Rafi Kumar, Husband of New York Times bestselling Author Casey Bloom dies in tragic hit and run carcrash.

The apparent carcrash is dated on the same day the husband in his current manuscript died in a similar carcrash.

Casey stares at the screen, tears burning in his eyes.

He knows he didn’t imagine this morning, let alone the past two years.

So does that mean he made this happen?

Did the story he wrote today somehow manifest it self into his reality?

He opens his word document with trembling hands and as soon as it loads he starts to frantically hit the backspace button.

He watches word after carefully chosen word dissappear as tears now start to freely fall down his face.

He needs to fix this.

The idea that deleting all the work he did today will bring his apparently deceased husband back is absurd.

Let alone the idea that he wrote himself into a reality where his husband died two years ago.

And yet he knows Rafi was still alive this morning before he left for work.

So Casey keeps going, he deletes word after word, he doesn’t stop when the familiar ache in his neck comes flaring back or when his keyboard becomes wet from his tears.

He doesn’t stop until he has deleted every single word he wrote today.

At this point he’s crying so hard he can barely make out the screen as he clicks to delete the now blank word document.

His heart is beating so hard it feels like his chest might explode as he confirms that he wants to delete the word document he spend the entire day working on.

His hands are shaking as he closes his laptop.

That’s when he hears a voice he’d recognize anywhere. “Sweetheart, do you have time for a break?”

Casey falls to his knees as he cries harder than he ever has before.

When he feels like he can breathe again he crawls to his desk with red rimmed eyes and checks his Google history.

The news article has vanished.

Casey stares at it in disbelief.

It’s an overwhelming feeling to realize you hold the power to create life and to end it.

A lesser person may become drunk of power when they realize they hold the power to alter reality in the tips of their fingers.

And Casey would be lying if he said the idea of being able to write a protagonist who cures cancer or wins the lottery and watch it bleed into his reality doesn’t sound appealing.

But right now all he cares about is making sure that Rafi is okay.

Saving the world one word document at a time will have to wait.