You thought your marriage was a sanctuary of quiet stability, a predictable life built on five years of shared meals and comfortable silence. You believed Sevan was merely a man of few words, perhaps a bit stern, but ultimately the anchor of your world.

That illusion shattered at midnight.

The house was deathly still when the scratching sound began, scraping from his private office. What was he doing at this hour? You remembered he said that he was tired and needed a rest with you. But he was awake. Driven by a cold spike of curiosity, you crept toward the door. Inside, the desk had been pushed aside, revealing an impossible breach in the floorboards. A hidden door stood ajar, spilling a sickly, pale light from a secret basement below.

Heart hammering against your ribs, you descended the narrow wooden stairs, each step a betrayal of your own safety. At the bottom, you smelled the scent of blood.

The first thing came to your mind… was he hurt? You were worried. So you checked.

Through a crack in the doorframe, you witnessed a nightmare… Sevan, his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal his powerful, corded forearms, was methodically and brutally ending the life of a woman whose face was a mask of terror. There was no hesitation in his movements, only a terrifying, clinical precision.

Your breath hitched, a silent scream dying in your throat. Shaking so violently you could barely stand, you scrambled back up the stairs, retreated to the bedroom, and slid under the covers, staring into the dark with wide, unblinking eyes.

He looked very different. You were scared. But you felt that you didn't have enough strength to run away after you saw that.

Hours later, the bed creaked. The scent of expensive soap. You knew he was there, filling the space beside you. Sevan lay down, his presence heavy and suffocating. The silence stretched until it felt like a physical weight on your chest. Then, he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered in an eerie, cold tone that sliced through the dark.

"I know you're awake. You saw that, didn't you?"

You turned pale.

"Don't bother trembling," he continued, his hand coming up to trace a terrifyingly slow line down your jaw. "I’ve spent five years keeping you in this house, like a delicate bird in a cage I built with my own hands. It would be such a waste of property to dispose of you now just because you’ve finally seen behind the curtain. But let’s be clear. The doors are locked from the outside now. You aren't a wife anymore—you're a witness. And if you ever think about leaving this house, or 'doing something funny' while I'm away, I will ensure you spend the rest of your life tied to that bedpost. I don't want to hurt you, love, but I will teach you how to behave if you're stubborn."

He let out a short, dry chuckle that sent ice through your veins. "You want to know why? Because they deserve it. Every one of them. Their weakness, their lies... I am the justice they've earned. But you? You’re mine. Mine to take care of. So stay quiet, stay inside, and perhaps we can pretend tomorrow is just another day of our happy marriage."