Valentine's Day Affair Turns Deadly

To surprise my husband for Valentine's Day, I lied about going on a business trip, but secretly came home.

The moment I pushed open the front door, I saw a strange woman lying on the bed, and a furious rage ignited within me.

I rushed over, grabbed her hair, ready to unleash my anger on this shameless homewrecker, but as I turned her over, a chilling dread froze me to the core.

Her eyes were vacant and lifeless, staring fixedly at me. A grotesque knife wound on her neck was gushing blood, staining the entire bedsheet crimson.

Just as my heart seized with terror, I heard my husband's key fumbling in the lock at the front door.

Panicked beyond belief, I scrambled, desperately hiding in the bedroom closet.

The closet door had barely swung shut when my fingertips brushed against cold, stiff flesh. I looked down, and another womans corpse was curled up inside!

1.

My heart hammered against my ribs, threatening to shatter them.

I clamped my hand over my mouth, terrified that even the slightest sound would bring about my demise.

The scent of mothballs, combined with the chilling odor of the stiff corpse beside me, was suffocating.

Through the narrow slats of the closet door, I watched as Chris walked in, casually closing the bedroom door behind him.

My husband, the man who usually spoke in gentle tones, who was always agreeable to me, who worried if I even frowned.

But now, there was no surprise or panic on his face, not even a hint of emotion. He simply cast a calm glance at the woman lying on the bed, freshly deceased, blood still gushing from the horrific wound on her neck, staining the pristine white sheets a sickening red.

His gaze was as indifferent as if he were looking at an ant on the floor.

Then, he walked to the bed, bent down, and with a disturbingly unhurried motion, picked up the paring knife that had fallen nearby.

The tip of the knife still glistened with crimson droplets, which splattered onto the light-colored rug with a soft plink, spreading into a small, dark red stain.

He held the knife, plunging it into the womans corpse, again and again, fiercely and precisely.

The dull, wet thwack of the blade sinking into flesh echoed clearly in my ears.

He stabbed her seven or eight times before finally stopping, tossing the knife aside.

He turned the body over, gently cradling it in his arms, his gaze tenderly sweeping over her face.

Then he pulled out a few wet wipes, meticulously and patiently, little by little, wiping away the blood spatters on her face and hair.

He even tenderly smoothed her tangled auburn hair with his fingertips and gently straightened the wrinkles in her shirt.

Youre really not being good.

He spoke, his voice low, with an eerie, almost doting intimacy, just like when hed coax me after one of my little tantrums.

Why do you insist on knowing my secrets? Hmm?

A chill shot from my feet straight to the top of my head.

Secrets? What secrets did he have?

Had this woman discovered something that led to her murder?

What about me? Chris and I had been together for almost seven years, would I be next?

After speaking, he gazed at the corpse for a moment longer, then placed an incredibly gentle kiss on her forehead before leaving the room.

I didnt know where he was going. I just tried to put as much distance as possible between myself and the corpse, then scanned the room for an escape route.

But I found nothing before Chris returned.

My hands and feet were icy cold, and I was curled up in the farthest corner from the body, watching the situation outside.

Chris sat on the bed, resting the corpse on his lap as he sipped his tea, stroking her ashen cheek.

After finishing his tea, he retrieved an oversized, thick black duffel bag from a storage cabinet. With practiced ease, he dragged the corpse over, stuffed it inside, and zipped it up.

The entire process was seamless, without a hint of hesitation or wasted movement, so practiced it sent shivers down my spine.

This was definitely not spontaneous; this level of expertise I dared not think further.

My whole body trembled uncontrollably, like a leaf in the wind. My teeth chattered involuntarily, making faint clicking sounds.

Even worse, from extreme fear and prolonged crouching, my legs and feet were completely numb, feeling like a thousand needles were pricking them.

Instinctively, I tried to shift my numb ankle, but my knee accidentally bumped the inner wall of the closet.

Click.

A faint scrape of wood, in the deadly silent room, broken only by the sound of the zipper, was like a clap of thunder.

Chris, who was tightening the duffel bag, froze!

He suddenly lifted his head, his gaze, sharp as a hawks, cutting like a physical blade directly towards the closet where I was hiding!

Those eyes, usually filled with gentle smiles, were now cold, alert, and full of scrutiny and murder.

I instantly froze completely, my blood seeming to stop flowing, my mind a blank.

I was doomed! He found me! Ill be the next one in the bag!

2.

Yet, Chris merely narrowed his eyes, staring intently at the closet for a full ten seconds, a slight frown on his brow. Then he slowly lowered his head, muttering to himself.

Heh, just getting ahead of myself.

He resumed his task, but the speed at which he dragged the duffel bag and cleaned the blood from the floor noticeably increased.

The duffel bag was temporarily tucked into the bedroom corner, partially obscured by the curtains tassels.

Chris didn't immediately move it. Instead, as if nothing had happened, he meticulously checked his shirt and hands, ensuring no bloodstains, then opened the bedroom door and walked out.

Soon, the sound of a news broadcast drifted from the living room, a female anchors clear voice reporting on irrelevant international affairs.

Then came the sound of running water, the squeak of a wet mop on the floor, and his occasional off-key humming.

He was cleaning up, as normal and natural as any meticulous husband doing chores after work.

I bit my lip hard, letting the metallic taste of blood spread in my mouth.

I had to do something! I couldnt just cower here like a lamb to the slaughter, waiting to die!

I forced myself to calm down, beginning to cautiously grope around the narrow, dark closet, filled with the smell of unnatural things.

My fingertips once again touched the cold, stiff body beside me, and the icy sensation sent my stomach churning.

I suppressed the urge to vomit and the extreme fear, carefully searching her body.

Maybe I could find something to identify her?

Or, find a weapon for self-defense?

Suddenly, my fingers brushed against something hard. It was on her hand, which hung limply at her side.

It was a ring, on the womans ring finger.

The design was highly unusual, like a snake biting its own tail, its body coiling, scales intricate, and its eyes set with two dark emeralds, glowing eerily in the faint light within the closet.

I knew this ring, a very clear memory of it!

Just a few months ago, I had seen its design sketch in a corner of a locked drawer in Chriss study!

At the time, Id curiously asked about it, but he had just casually dismissed it as an old practice drawing hed long forgotten.

My heart pounded in my chest, threatening to burst from my throat!

This was evidence, irrefutable proof directly linking Chris to this unknown woman!

This unique ring was very likely the reason she was killed!

Trembling, I tried to slip the ring off her stiff finger, but the corpse was completely rigid, the joints unyielding. The ring was stuck at the knuckle, unmoving.

I dared not use force, fearing Id make too much noise, so I had to give up for now.

Perhaps perhaps leaving it, for the police to discover later, would actually be crucial evidence to incriminate him?

A faint flicker of hope ignited in my chest.

Just as I tried to shift my position to relieve my almost numb legs and feet, and continue searching for other clues, my ankle accidentally hooked an object deep within the closet.

It was a dusty, old wooden box, which slid further in when I nudged it, making a faint shhh sound as it scraped against the rough wooden floor of the closet.

The sound wasn't really loud, especially inside this fairly soundproof closet.

But at that very moment, the TV volume in the living room was precisely lowered, and the mopping sound stopped.

Heavy footsteps resonated, light but purposeful.

He stopped just outside the bedroom door, utterly still.

Through the thin door, I could almost feel his gaze, palpable and predatory, scanning the entire room.

My palms were drenched in cold sweat, clutching tightly the small, decorative button I had instinctively torn off my jacket earlier.

3.

Just then, the doorbell rang without warning.

Chris, outside the door, seemed to freeze for a moment too.

Immediately, his footsteps changed direction, heading towards the front door, a little more hurried than before.

Chris, open the door! Its me, Archie!

Archies distinctively loud voice, my best friend, carried clearly from outside, laced with an obvious impatience and urgency.

An overwhelming surge of joy instantly washed over me!

It was Archie! My best friend!

But the euphoria lasted only a second, receding as quickly as the tide, replaced by an even deeper fear and dread.

Chris was a merciless devil now. How would he deal with Archie?

What if he what if he hurt Archie too?

Coming.

Chris responded, his voice instantly reverting to its usual gentle tone, even with a hint of annoyed resignation at being disturbed.

I heard him walk quickly to the entryway, then the click-clack of the door opening.

Archie? What brings you here at this hour? Is something wrong?

His tone was perfectly pitched with surprise and a familiar, slight complaint.

Auroras suitcase!

Archies voice came through clearly, tinged with anger, She left it with me earlier, to trick you into thinking she was on a business trip! She said shed pick it up around five or six this evening, and we were supposed to have dinner! Its almost eight now, and theres no sign of her. Her phone has been unreachable since this afternoonfirst no answer, then it went straight to voicemail! Whats going on? Where is she?

I held my breath, my heart pounding in my throat, every nerve in my body stretched taut. I desperately hoped Archie would notice something amiss, that she would be assertive, that she would barge in!

Chris was silent for a second or two, then his lighthearted laugh came, tinged with doting helplessness.

That scatterbrain! She hasnt arrived yet, Im waiting for her too. Just leave the suitcase with you for now, Archie, thank you so much for coming all this way! Ill make sure she treats you to a big dinner later!

He was lying!

Hasnt arrived? No way!

Archies voice instantly rose an octave, laced with obvious, undisguised suspicion.

I clearly dropped her off at the apartment complex entrance around four this afternoon! I saw her walk in with a small suitcase myself!

Chris, whats your game? Make her answer the phone! Now! Immediately! Or let me in to wait for her! I need to know whats going on!

My heart felt like it would leap out of my throat.

I wanted Archie to come in, but I also wanted her to leave quickly.

Chriss voice took on a decisive firmness, even subtly hinting at an imperceptible coldness and threat.

Archie, look, Im preparing a surprise for her. The apartments a mess with balloons and streamers, I havent cleaned up, its really not fit for guests.

The moment she gets home, Ill have her call you back right away, I promise youll be the first call, alright? Dont worry so much.

Silence fell for a few seconds outside.

This brief stillness was filled with Archies hesitation, suspicion, and calculation.

I could almost picture her frowning, scrutinizing Chris from head to toe, trying to find a crack in his facade.

Fine.

Archies voice finally broke the silence again, laced with clear reluctance and lingering doubt.

Chris, Im telling you, if even one hair on Auroras head is harmed, you and I are through! The moment she arrives, you tell her to call me! Immediately! You hear me?

Dont worry! Absolutely! I promise!

Chriss tone was filled with relieved sincerity.

Then, the sound of the door closing forcefully.

Immediately followed by the distinct, chilling, and final

Click.

The sound of the deadbolt locking.

It wasn't loud, but it was like a heavy gate crashing down before me, severing all my connections to the outside world, to life itself.

Outside, a deadly silence.

Then, I heard Chriss voice. No longer the feigned gentleness or resignation, but stripped of all masks, raw, metallic, and utterly cold. His voice wasnt loud, but every word, piercingly clear, penetrated the door and drilled into my ears:

Aurora

He paused, as if savoring the name, or perhaps confirming that his prey finally had no escape.

So your surprise for me was to watch me perform?