Trophy Husband, by Archana Nagarajan

He wore an expensive suit and a cheap smile, with one arm around his wife’s waist and both eyes on the breasts of young ladies in the party. It irked him that not one of them was available to him anymore, but it also secretly pleased him that not one of them looked a day younger than his wife of two years. Botox was worth the dent it made in his wife’s bank account. It was a good thing she earned enough to cover both her expenses and his. It made tolerating her annoying grownup children a tad bit easier.