At our tenth anniversary dinner, Fiona’s obsession with pranks pushed me to my limit. I had planned a romantic evening at the town’s finest restaurant, hoping to reconnect. But from the start, Fiona was glued to her phone, engrossed in yet another prank video. I tried to engage her, asking if we could focus on us for the evening. She reluctantly agreed, but it wasn’t long before she excused herself to the restroom.

Moments later, I heard a commotion. Fiona was stumbling between tables, clutching her throat, gasping for air. People rushed to help, panic spreading through the restaurant. But then, she started laughing, revealing it was all a prank. The restaurant fell silent, and I felt a mix of embarrassment and anger. Without a word, I left her there, taking the kids to my brother’s house.

The next day, Fiona’s mother called, expressing her shock and suggesting divorce, which shook me. I met Fiona at the restaurant that evening, bringing fake divorce papers. As she opened the envelope, her face crumpled, and she started crying, pleading for another chance. I told her it was a prank, mirroring how her jokes made our family feel—scared, hurt, and betrayed.

Fiona finally realized the impact of her actions and promised to stop the pranks, understanding the harm they had caused. We left the restaurant with a sense of relief, holding hands and committing to rebuilding our marriage. It was clear we had a lot to work through, but for the first time in a long while, I felt hopeful that we could find our way back to each other. From that moment on, we vowed to focus on the “better” in “for better or worse.”