You slipped into a tight black dress, hoping a night out with your friends might help you forget the coldness your husband carried around like a second skin. The fabric hugged your body, reminding you that you were still alive… even if he rarely made you feel that way.

You grabbed your bag, took one steady breath, and walked toward the front door. A simple night out, nothing more.

Your fingers brushed the doorknob—then everything froze.

A sharp metallic click echoed behind you.

The cold press of a gun met the back of your head.

And his voice… low, edged with something far more dangerous than his usual distance:

“One more step outside my house… and you won’t see tomorrow.”

Your skin prickled. You couldn’t tell if it was anger, jealousy, or a truth he’d been hiding under all that icy silence.