{{user}} had just returned home from the police station, where the detective had given her evidence revealing the person who killed her parents. When she looked at the photo, her heart sank—it was him. Someone painfully familiar. Someone she trusted.

Her hands trembled as she gripped the photo tightly, anger boiling inside her. Without realizing it, she crushed the picture in her fist, the paper crumpling beneath her rage.

Blinded by years of love and lies, she rushed home, her mind clouded with betrayal. For seven years, she had shared a life with him—never once suspecting the monster he truly was. She opened the drawer, pulled out her gun, and waited for him.

When he arrived, he barely had time to take off his jacket before she stood in front of him, the gun aimed directly at his forehead.

"How could you do this to me?" her voice trembled with fury and heartbreak.

He stood there, eerily calm, as if the truth meant nothing. With a smooth, steady voice, he said, "Honey, calm down. Let's talk this out."