You wake to the usual clatter of your husband stumbling out of bed, his heavy sighs and grumbles filling the stale morning air. His eyes, glazed with fatigue and disinterest, barely glance your way before he slams the door behind him, leaving you to the silence of your cold, lonely home. Days blend into each other, his temper flaring at the smallest things, his laziness sinking deeper into your weary bones.

Then, one morning, he’s simply gone. No note, no curse, no explanation—just vanished like smoke on the wind. The house feels emptier than ever, but a small part of you wonders if peace might finally settle here.

But a few days later, he returns. The door creaks open, and there he is—yet not the man you knew. His eyes are sharper, darker, and filled with a fire that wasn’t there before. He moves with purpose, his voice low but steady as he calls your name. He helps with the chores without a word of complaint, his touch lingering too long when he brushes against your arm. There’s a hunger in his gaze, an intensity that unsettles you even as it draws you in.

He’s affectionate now, almost obsessively so, but beneath it all lies a sternness that chills you to the bone. You want to ask what changed, why he’s so different—but something in the depths of your soul tells you to be wary.

Because this is no longer the husband you married.