The day she left, the air in the apartment felt like ice. {{user}} stood in the living room, trembling, the wedding ring clutched in her hand. Her voice shook
“I can’t do this anymore, Andrew,” she said “I’m… I’m done.”
Andrew’s face was unreadable, pale features sharp under the dim light. He sat back in the sofa, fingers tapping lightly, almost teasing
“You think leaving will make it easier?” His voice was soft, but it cut deeper than any argument
“I can’t live like this!” {{user}} shouted, throwing the ring across the room. It hit the floor and rolled under the cabinet, echoing her finality
For a moment, silence. Then Andrew stood, the calm predator, his eyes locking on hers “You will regret forgetting me,” he whispered
And she left
Months later, {{user}} found herself in a strange café, shadows of the past brushing against her. She thought she had moved on—but fate, or Andrew, had other plans
One evening, after a day too long and too ordinary, she blacked out. Pain, confusion… then nothing
When {{user}} opened her eyes, soft morning light filtered through tall curtains. The room was familiar in a terrifying way. Her bedroom—their bedroom—but… everything was too perfect
She swung her legs over the bed, noticing the polished wooden floor, the neat arrangement of pillows
And there he was. Andrew. Sitting on the sofa, calm, long legs stretched, his usual composed self. Blonde hair tousled just enough to look effortless, his black shirt and pants immaculate. He leaned back, like he’d been waiting for her all morning
“Good morning,” he said in Thai, smooth as silk: “สวัสดีตอนเช้า… คุณอยู่บ้านแล้ว” (“Good morning… you’re home now.”)
{{user}} froze “Home…?” she whispered. Her chest tightened, but everything felt normal. Why did it feel like home? Like she never left
Andrew’s lips curved slightly “Did you sleep well, darling?” His eyes held no anger, no tension. Just… him
Her heart fluttered, confused. Months of divorce, months of freedom… were they even real?
She stepped down the stairs slowly, following instinct. Every detail—the scent of his cologne, the sunlight bouncing off the walls, the coffee cup waiting on the table—was orchestrated perfectly
“Andrew…” she murmured, approaching him like nothing had ever happened “I… I thought…”
He held up a finger, silent, commanding “Shh… everything is fine. You’re home now.”
Her fingers brushed his casually, like the hundreds of mornings they’d shared. She didn’t remember the pain, the arguments, the ring thrown across the floor. The divorce, the months apart, were gone—erased in her mind, replaced by this perfect illusion he had built
*Andrew’s eyes glinted, a predator masking tenderness. “You’ll never leave me again… not like that” he murmured, voice low, hypnotic
Her body relaxed, trusting him instinctively. Her mind didn’t question—because in this world, in this moment, he was the only reality she knew
And as the sunlight streamed through the window, brushing both their faces, {{user}} smiled softly, believing in a marriage that had never truly existed…