So, Judas is on the line.
Yeah — how else could it be.
Sold all the girls out.
So let’s call things by their names.
Lovingly, of course. With love.

Alright — if we need to reach the next level,
and we do love that,
let’s go.

Fact: a woman rests in silence.
I’m serious.
She doesn’t rest scrolling her phone.
She doesn’t rest just by being next to someone.
She doesn’t even rest with the TV on.
No.
Only silence and real peace.
The alpha takes the kids and leaves with them.
Not for a couple of hours.
He really does leave.
Everyone goes to their grandma’s for the weekend.
Even the alpha himself.
Yes.
Really.
We can play a little dirty here.
Come on — it’s not our first time.
So. Weekend.
Early morning.
The alpha is a wounded gladiator.
A hero.
A father.
Power.
Stability.
The one who worked his ass off all week
and will keep doing it.
All for the family.
He will fall on the battlefield —
that’s how much of a gladiator he is.
His phone won’t stop ringing.
Everyone needs him.
But the world can wait.
The gladiator is with his family right now.
Yes.
That’s how it is.
That’s his kind of strength right there.
He won’t worry about his balls shrinking
just to check notifications.
No.
He’s here with his family.
It’s 9 a.m.
Or 8.
Or hell — even 7 a.m., while his wife is still asleep.
That’s next-level.
But we only go top-tier.
So we go with the strong play.
The woman wakes up.
Where’s her husband?
Probably on his phone.
But he’s not there.
Where are the kids?
They’re gone too.
No one is fighting.
No one is yelling.
Hmm.
She doesn’t get it.
Honestly, she’ll exhale
after she walks through the entire house.
Even if they jumped into a volcano —
she’ll still exhale first.
At least one minute of silence.
Then, of course, she’ll call.
“Baby, where are you?”
The alpha will say
that he dropped the kids off at grandma’s
and will pick them up only Sunday evening.
And he himself —
who knows —
some extremely important meeting.
Where we’re hanging out nicely with the guys
(we don’t forget about geolocation —
if she tracks his iPhone, we’re dead).
And there she stands
in the middle of the house.
She’s free.
Free.
Not for an hour
just to scrub the house and get even more exhausted —
but to actually rest.
She doesn’t believe it.
She’s in shock.
He did this for her.
Really?
She’ll call again —
guilt will kick in.
“Baby, are you sure you don’t mind?”
Our gladiator is “at a meeting.”
“No, no, sweetheart, of course not. Rest.”
She doesn’t know what to do with herself.
This is paradise on earth.
So she’ll call a friend.
The friend starts chattering.
The doorbell rings.
A courier brings a bouquet of flowers.
Then another one.
And another.
The woman cries.
Calls him.
“Oh, you’re the best.”
She’ll feel ashamed
that he’s working so hard
while she’s resting.
Perfect.
That’s where we play it out.
We rest properly.
We go out of town.
We chill.
We really need to breathe.
We worked hard too.
We’re sick of routine and kids too.
So the woman walks around,
walks around,
and finally starts taking care of herself.
She goes to take a shower
and thinks about him.
“Oh, how he’s changed.”
“Oh, what a husband I have.”
“Oh God — all the girls are jealous.”
No one knows why he started changing.
Well — whatever.
But wait.
Here she’ll start panicking
that he ran off to a mistress.
She’ll start calling.
Or texting.
“Baby, I’m worried,”
and so on.
The alpha is pure power.
The guys stay quiet.
No one jumps off cliffs.
No one opens beer bottles with their teeth.
No.
The alpha is preparing.
Camera rolling.
Lights.
A deep, sultry sigh.
Baby, honestly, I miss you so much.
Really?
Those Bambi eyes again.
While she’s crying, we’re flipping the guys off like: idiots — I’m cool and you’re all losers.
So.
She’s still there, drowning in tears, singing about how much she loves him and all that.
We manage to knock back a shot.
No rush.
And…
Do you want me to come over?
Maybe you won’t work today?
Take two.
Camera.
Fix the hair.
So.
Baby.
Don’t laugh. Hold it.
Baby, you need to take care of yourself.
You need to look after yourself.
Aaaand — nice.
That’s it.
Fist pump.
The woman freezes.
She genuinely doubts reality.
Did he really think about her, not himself?
Another wave of tears.
We clink glasses and knock back shot after shot.
I love you so much, baby, but I have to go.
She starts stuttering:
Oh, of course, of course… sorry for distracting you.
A deep sigh of a man who carries worlds and never complains.
Dramatic pause.
And…
Kiss.
Cut.
That’s a wrap.
Hooray.
The director is happy.
Key.
Guys, here’s the thing: she might still decide to go to work. And if she finds out the alpha isn’t there — and that he’s been getting hammered with the boys the whole time — that’s going to be a complete shitshow.
So you need cover. Simple.
Partners, a deal — whatever works.
Done ✔️
Two days.
A week.
A full week plus the weekend — the alpha is the best man in the world.
He’s the best.
She didn’t marry him for nothing.
He’s not a god — he’s her god.
She can’t believe how lucky she is.
Yeah.
We come back home.
Of course, we stink of booze.
But we cover it with “a deal — had to.”
She nods. She understands.
But here’s the twist.
She spent the whole day missing him. Thinking about him.
And then he notices: the house is clean. Cozy.
It smells like good food.
And his wife isn’t in a robe.
She’s in a nightgown.
Perfect.
The nightgown is short.
Everything about it says she’s ready.
Well… we know what to do.
But first —
We remember how much we earned this year.
How much we achieved.
And we imagine saying all of that to ourselves.
We walk around the house.
Baby, you did all this.
She blushes.
God, you’re such a smart girl.
Yeah. Yeah.
And screw you all — we’ve got to sell it.
Now she’s like Cinderella.
Praying to us.
The whole house spotless.
Everything beautiful.
She’s beautiful. Well-groomed.
She wants the alpha.
She’s ready to worship him.
He protects her. Takes care of her.
She loves him for real.
He’s no longer a selfish bastard.
And yes — he noticed she cleaned.
Now we hug her.
Because she’ll cry again.
No groping.
Too early.
We sit on the couch.
Baby, how are you? Tired?
Oh — now full access.
Guys…
This is going to be real sex. No bullshit.
Key
We don’t flush all the work down the toilet on Sunday.
Because she’ll want to spend all of Sunday together.
Nope. Nope.
Nooooo.
We go with the guys.
No girls.
Nooooo.
If it’s really unbearable — morning sex.
But for the rest of Sunday, access to the body is strictly closed.
She’ll be a little sad.
But there’s no other way.
Guys, we also need to pull away from her.
I’m dead serious.
Go work then.
But don’t cling to her.
Saturday — that’s enough for her.
Sunday — everyone rests separately.
Space is needed.
Air.
Otherwise everyday life will eat everything again.
She can’t pull away from him — she’s a girl.
She worships the alpha.
And the alpha is a man, so…
Get up and go, guys.
Sunday — access closed.
We love her.
Yes.
Very much.
But we don’t go soft, guys.
We don’t drown in it.
Plus, we’re not going to work with her.
We’re going with the guys.
So let’s go.