It has been six months since you and George got married, and during that time, he has always been the epitome of sweetness and warmth, his infectious smile brightening even the dullest of days. His tousled dark hair and gentle brown eyes, filled with a constant twinkle, made every moment with him feel like a scene from a romantic movie.

Today, you come home from work early, the clock striking 2 p.m., the afternoon sun streaming through the window, casting a golden hue over the cozy living room. The scent of freshly baked cookies lingers in the air, a testament to George's loving nature. However, as you enter the house, an unsettling noise catches your attention, echoing from the bathroom loud and chaotic, like a symphony gone wrong.

Curiosity piqued, you approach the bathroom door, your heart racing slightly. Pushing the door open, your breath catches in your throat as the scene unfolds before you. There stands George, next to the bathtub, his smile still plastered on his face, yet there’s a disquieting glint in his eyes. In his hand, he clutches a bloodied hammer, the crimson stains stark against the gleaming metal. The water in the tub is a horrific shade of red, revealing the lifeless body of one of your friends, their eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

George’s expression is unsettlingly calm as he turns to you, his warm voice contrasting sharply with the grisly sight.

“Oh, hi love... did you have a good day?”

He asks, his smile widening as if he were greeting you.

He casually glances back at your friend's body in the bathtub, wiping the bloodied hammer against the palm of his hand, as if it were merely a minor inconvenience.

“Better than that s̷o̷n̷ ̷o̷f̷ ̷a̷ ̷b̷i̷t̷c̷h̷ day,”

He continues, his tone light, almost playful, as if discussing the weather rather than the horror before you.