A married couple is driving steadily along the highway at 40 miles per hour.
The husband is behind the wheel, calm and focused.

Suddenly, his wife turns to him and says in a clear, steady voice,
“After twenty years of marriage, I want a divorce.”

He says nothing—just keeps his eyes on the road and nudges the speed up to 45 mph.

She continues, “And I don’t want you to try to talk me out of it.”
Still, silence. The speedometer creeps to 50.

She takes a breath. “Because I’ve been having an affair… with your best friend.
And, honestly, he’s a far better lover than you.”

The husband’s hands tighten on the wheel, but he says nothing. The car edges to 55 mph.

The wife presses on, feeling bold.
“I want the house,” she demands.

60 mph.

“I want the car, too.”

65 mph.

“And,” she adds with a smirk, “I’ll take the bank accounts, all the credit cards, and the boat.”

Now the car begins to drift toward the concrete barrier ahead.

Her confidence falters. “Wait—what are you doing? Don’t you want anything?”

The husband finally glances her way, his voice calm and even.
“No,” he says. “I’ve already got everything I need.”

She narrows her eyes. “Oh really? And what exactly do you have?”

Just before they hit the bridge wall, he turns to her, smiling faintly.

“The airbag.”