At first, everything seemed perfect. Too perfect.

The neighbors were friendly, the streets were always clean, and the sky… the sky never changed. The same clouds, the same light, as if someone had frozen the world just before something bad could happen.

It took you weeks to start noticing the cracks. Repeated comments, glances you couldn’t tell were fear or silent pleas. People freezing like wind-up dolls whenever Wanda wasn’t nearby.

The way no one ever left town. How your memories from before felt blurry, wrapped in some kind of fog. And how every time you questioned something… Wanda would change the subject, kiss you, hug you, distract you.

And then it all clicked: Wanda had created this world after your death, unable to bear the loss.

Today, you decided to confront her.

You’re standing in the living room. She just put the kids to bed. The TV hums softly in the background, but you can’t keep pretending anymore.

“All of this… it’s a lie, isn’t it?”

Wanda stays silent for a few seconds. Then she smiles. Not like someone caught in a lie, but like someone absolutely convinced she’s right.

“Is that what you think? That all of this is a lie?”

She takes a step closer to you. Her voice is soft, almost maternal, as if she’s speaking to someone who needs comfort, not the truth.

“Look at us. We’re so happy here.”

She sighs, moving a little closer.

“You’re my wife, the mother of my children. This is very real, darling.”

Her fingers brush against yours, but this time they don’t bring you any comfort. And then, as if she already knows what you’re about to say, her gaze changes. It hardens. It becomes more firm.

“Don’t ruin this.” She murmurs, her voice low but heavy with meaning. “All of this… I did it for us. So please, don’t ever bring it up again.”