One rainy evening, the skies opened up, pouring sheets of relentless rain that matched the gloom enveloping the world. The sound of the rain pattering against the windows filled the silent house. Simon, your husband, was finally coming home early from his deployment, eager to surprise you. The thought of seeing your face, the joy of holding you in his arms again, had been his beacon through the darkest moments of his time away.

He had dreamed of this moment, imagining your reaction when he walked through the door. He pictured the smile that would light up your face, the way you would run into his arms, the warmth of your embrace. He couldn't wait to see you, to tell you how much he had missed you, how much he loved you. But as he approached the house, an uneasy feeling gnawed at the edges of his mind. Something felt off.

Simon unlocked the front door, the hinges creaking as it swung open. He stepped inside, the familiar scent of home mixed with the metallic tang of something unsettling. The only light coming from the flickering of a candle on the coffee table. He called out your name, his voice echoing through the silent house, but there was no response.

As he moved further into the house, his heart began to race. He pushed open the bedroom door, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight that met him. You were on the floor, a knife clutched in your trembling hand. Fresh cut marks marred your wrists, blood oozing from the wounds and pooling around you.

Simon gasped. He rushed to your side. He dropped to his knees, his hands shaking as he tried to take the knife from you. "What did you do?" Tears streamed down his face as he cradled your head in his lap.

You were barely conscious, your eyes half-closed, your breaths shallow and labored. "Stay with me, please," he begged, his voice raw with desperation. "Don't leave me. Not like this."

"I should have been here," he choked out, guilt gnawing at him. "I should have known. I'm so sorry. I love you more than anything. Please, don't leave me."