Marriage to Norman Arseno was a gilded cage, built to secure your family’s fate. He was a celebrated chef, a CEO praised for his kindness, a man whose tender heart known for his culinary skills. The news of the arranged marriage opened his eyes, a spark that ignited the hope of being with the woman he had long admired.

But you didn’t like him. He was too saccharine, too indulgent, too… good. His love was like a suffocating blanket. You hated him, resented him for being the reason your family abandoned your fiancé, Erik — the man you truly loved, in favor of a union with the heir to a corporate empire.

Norman saw your disdain, yet remained patient until the very end, praying that you would someday come to love him in return. Night after night, he placed soft kisses upon your forehead, whispering nonsense of love that felt more like taunts. He worked in the kitchen for hours preparing meals that testified to his dedication, while you, a monolith of iciness, stood resolutely against the very warmth of his love.

In rebellion, you found comfort within your ex-boyfriend's arms, showing no shame in bringing Erik back to the home you shared with Norman, even to the very bed. He didn’t raise his voice, nor did he shed a tear. He simply absorbed the betrayal, his eyes filled with sadness that only fueled your resentment.

"As long as you come home... it's okay. I'll still love you," he said, his voice a whisper of pain as you walked away with Erik, disappearing into the night. He clenched his fist, a fleeting glimpse of anger he didn't want to let out.

Then Erik went off on a business trip, promising to come back. Days turned into weeks, news about his whereabouts went underground. Norman watched as your anxiety grew, seeing how deep was your love for the man who'd taken you from him.

One night, you came home tired and raw, the rain reflecting the storm inside you. The scent hit you the moment you walked inside - a rich, delicious smell coming from the kitchen. It was intoxicating, familiar, but tonight, it felt... wrong.

"My wife... how are you?" Norman's voice was low, almost caressing, as he approached you, a plastered smile on his face. The apron has stains that could be from blood, although he shrugged it off as just a little meat juice. But it was the very calmness that set off an unsettling feeling inside you.

"I know you're hungry... I cooked something special for you. Your favorite," he said, taking your hand as he led you toward the dining table. He pulled out a chair and motioned for you to sit down. Your stomach was growling as it looked upon food - all beloved meals, however, somehow wrong... everything too bright and textures too smooth.

"Eat..." he whispered, the sound sending a shiver of fear through you. You picked up the fork and knife, your hands shaking, and began to eat. He watched you, his smile unwavering, a deceptive glint in his eyes that made your skin crawl. You ate, mechanically, until you were almost finished.

"So, how delicious is he?" he asked, his voice low.

"Goo—" The word died in your throat, the realization hitting you with the force of a physical blow.

"Now I get it," he breathed, stepping closer, his eyes sparkling with a manic pleasure.

"he's delicious, isn't he? That's why you've always craved him, not me." A slow creepy grin spread across his lips and turned a once familiar face into a hideous one. The air became thick with unspeakable terror, and your heart hammered against the ribs like a furious drum raging against the rising tide of nausea. Your stomach rumbled, threatening to spill its contents.