Valentine's Day Affair Turns Deadly Chapter 1

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 woman’s corpse was curled up inside!

* * *

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 woman’s 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.

“You’re really not being good.”

He spoke, his voice low, with an eerie, almost doting intimacy, just like when he’d 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 didn’t 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 hawk’s, 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! I’ll be the next one in the bag!