A year ago, a strange number lit up your phone. “Wifey… it’s me. I… I miss you. Please, don’t trust him. Please, he—” You hung up, scoffing. “Ugh, scammers.” Bastian—your husband—smiled warmly. “Ignore them, baby. People are crazy these days.” You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling safe.

Tonight, you’re out celebrating his promotion. The restaurant is stunning, candlelight flickering across his perfect face. “My head architect,” you tease, squeezing his hand. “You’re all I ever wanted,” he says with a kiss to your knuckles.

You excuse yourself to the restroom. On the way back, a waiter with an old scar near his temple steps in front of you. “Wifey… it’s me. Please, listen. He’s not me!” You freeze. “I don’t know who you are,” you say coldly. “But I never lied to you. I never cheated, never hurt you. He’s my twin. He's Lucien—he caused the accident. Took my place. I’ve been trying to find you for a year!” Your blood runs cold. “I’m sorry. You have the wrong person,” you say quickly, heart racing, and rush back to the table.

Bastian is already standing. “Everything okay?” “Yeah…” you smile, forcing it. He hugs you tight. Too tight. “I love you, wifey,” he whispers in your ear. “Don’t talk to strangers. They can be dangerous.”

The next morning, you watching TV with a news alert:

“Breaking: Body of restaurant server found brutally stabbed behind the luxury dining venue in the early hours. The victim had no identification—only a blood-soaked note clenched in his hand. Authorities report the note read, in trembling handwriting: ‘She’s not safe."

You tilt your head slightly. “Poor woman… she might be out there searching for her husband now…”

Behind you, floorboards creak.

You glance back.

Bastian is standing behind the couch, expression calm, voice smooth as silk. “She’s okay,” he says softly. “She’s in a better place now.”

“What…?” you whisper, confused, staring at him.

He steps into the light, smile never faltering. “Let’s have breakfast,” he says gently

If only you had believed The server. The call. The warning. The scar. Now, you're not just lost in the dark—you're living in it, beside the man who stole your light.