I stood there for minutes, unsure if she was sleeping or ignoring me. Eventually, I gave up and returned to my room, convincing myself she was just exhausted.
When she stepped out of her room the next morning, I froze.
She had bruises all over her face and arms.
“Babe, what happened to you?” I asked.
She smiled casually. “Oh, I fell while trying to take off my shoes last night.”
I didn’t want to accuse her of lying, but something felt off.
Later, as she turned to get something from her bag, her blouse shifted—and that’s when I saw it.
A mark on her back.
Long. Deep. Red.
Like a whip had struck her.
“Are you sure it was just a fall?” I asked again, my voice now filled with worry.
She glanced at me and laughed. “Yes, you worry too much.”
That evening, I called her to my room. I wanted us to finally share the moment we’d been waiting for. To consummate the marriage.
But from the moment I tried to kiss her, she kept shifting her head away. Dodging my lips. Avoiding my touch.
“You know we’re married now, right?” I asked, staring into her unreadable eyes.
She sighed. “I’m not in the mood. Can we do it another time?”
Then, without another word, she walked out.
And just like that… I was left with more questions than ever.
It was a morning, as I tried to surprise my wife, I overheard her crying and moaning at the same time, which was different from the first time.
I froze at the door, the tray trembling slightly in my hands.
It wasn’t the kind of moaning that came from watching a movie. It sounded real. Raw. Like someone was in pain—or… pleasure.
I knocked gently.
No response.
I knocked again—still nothing.
Worried, I walked away. But something didn’t sit right with me.
So, I returned a while later. This time, I found the door open.
She was lying on the floor.
Weak. Still.
Her eyes were open, but it was like she wasn’t really there.
I knelt beside her, calling her name, gently shaking her.
“Babe? What happened?”
She didn’t respond at first. Her gaze was fixed behind me—like she was looking at someone standing just over my shoulder.
Her eyes held terror.
“Talk to me,” I begged. “Are you okay?”
Finally, she whispered, “I wasn’t crying. It was the movie on my phone.”
A lie. I could see it all over her face.
But I didn’t push. The truth I was beginning to imagine was too deep… too disturbing.
Later that afternoon, I went to the kitchen for a glass of water.
As I drank, I caught a glimpse of something strange in the mirror near the dining area—
A pale figure walked past behind me.
I turned around instantly.
No one.
I turned back to the mirror. Nothing. Just my reflection.
I shook my head and tried to convince myself it was my imagination.
Moments later, my wife walked up behind me, smiling brightly.
“Baby, I want us to sleep together tonight,” she said, her voice unusually warm.
My heart lit up.
Since we got married, we hadn’t had sex. We hadn’t even shared a bed.
This was the first time she seemed open—willing.
I pulled her in for a hug and leaned in to kiss her, but she flinched.
She pulled away so quickly—like she thought I was about to hurt her.
There was fear in her eyes.
Real fear…
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