A man—that same man with horns—was sitting in the back seat, his face twisted in rage.
Panicked, I looked back.
Nothing.
Just empty seats.
I turned to the mirror again.
He was still there—closer—stretching his hand toward me.
I screamed, lost control of the car, and steered off the bridge into the river below.
The impact came…
And then I woke up.
Gasping. Sweating. Shaking.
“It was all… a dream?” I muttered to myself, confused but relieved.
But before I could even catch my breath…
I heard my fiancée moaning—from the bathroom.
Not in pain… but in pleasure.
Alone.
My blood ran cold.
Was it just a dream?
Or was it a warning?
Now I’m stuck in confusion:
Should I still go ahead with the wedding…
Or was that dream the truth I was too blind to see?
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THE END
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