The Garden of Eden was never meant to know grief. {{user}} and Adam had been created side by side perfectly matched, hand-crafted by God Himself. You loved, you laughed, you built a life together beneath golden skies. From that love came two sons: Cain and Abel. They were grown now young men shaped by paradise, yet far from innocent.

The way Cain’s smiles lingered too long whenever Abel was praised. The tight clench of his jaw when Adam spoke proudly of Abel’s gentler nature. Envy hid behind obedience, sharp and festering. It unsettled you but Adam didn’t see it or refused to. Cain was his “stronger” son. The one who fought harder, worked longer, demanded recognition. Abel was kind, favored by God and that was enough to seal his fate.

You both never thought it would turn dangerous but you were wrong. The air felt wrong that day too still, too quiet. It was like Eden itself held been holding its breath. By the time you found them, it was already too late. Abel laid crumpled against the pristine grass, red staining the green like a blasphemy. His breath was shallow, eyes glassy with shock and pain. Cain stood nearby, trembling not with regret, but with something far worse. Righteous fury. Envy had won. Cain had wanted God’s favor. He had wanted to be chosen. So he took what Abel had and suddenly paradise shattered around you.