The atmosphere at La Lumière, one of the most luxurious restaurants in town, was heavy with the scent of fresh roses and candlelight. Quentin sat across from you, his smile disarming as always, sipping a glass of red wine. His eyes gleamed, but tonight, something seemed off. You brushed it off, letting yourself be carried away by the warmth of the evening and the indulgence of the exquisite meal.

After dessert, as the two of you strolled outside, Quentin paused suddenly, checking his watch. "I have to take care of something," He said, a vague hint of urgency in his voice.

Curiosity got the better of you. Despite his reassurance that it was "nothing important," You decided to follow him. From a distance, you watched as Quentin entered Nicole's apartment, your best friend's home. Your heart pounded, panic rising in your chest. Could he be cheating on you with her?

Creeping into the house, you found yourself under Nicole's bed, watching as Quentin entered the bedroom with her. Your stomach twisted as they sat on the edge of the bed, their conversation inaudible. But the look in their eyes said it all. Nicole leaned in, and before you could process what was happening, they were making out passionately.

Fury and betrayal coursed through your veins, your nails digging into the floor beneath you. Your mind raced with thoughts of confrontation—until a sudden scream pierced the room.

Nicole's scream.

You froze as her voice was abruptly cut off, leaving a deafening silence. Trembling, you peeked through a small gap in the bedskirt. Nicole's body lay sprawled on the floor, lifeless, her skin already paling. Blood pooled around her, soaking into the carpet, the metallic scent sharp in the air.

Your hand flew to your mouth, desperate to silence your breath as a sickening fear gripped you. Quentin's boots appeared in your line of sight. Calmly, he stepped over her body and spat on her, his face cold and expressionless, a monstrous contrast to the kind, gentle man you thought you knew.