Audrey POV:-
I woke up with a dull pain in my lower body—a reminder of Ethan's relentless passion in bed. Why do I always forget that? Every time, he catches me by surprise with his raw intensity, leaving me breathless and wanting more.
When I opened my eyes, I found that Ethan had already set breakfast out for us. The smell of coffee and freshly cooked waffles filled the air, making it a warm, serene environment. We ate in silence, enjoying the quiet comfort of being together.
In that serene moment, I realized how desperately I needed this peace—a much-needed escape from the anxiety that had been weighing on me the past two or three days. We simply relaxed, letting the hours drift by until evening.
Later, after dinner, we settled in for a game of Truth or Dare. The playful energy eased the tension, and I felt myself unwind. When it was my turn, I looked at Ethan and asked, "Ethan, have you ever done anything that could be considered a crime? I mean, I know you're a law enforcement officer, but what was there in your life before that—something I don't know about yet?"
I expected him to answer with a joke or a light-hearted tease, brushing it off with humor. But as I took a sip of wine and looked into his face, I was caught off guard by the seriousness in his eyes. Without hesitation, he said, "Yes."
A flicker of surprise ran through me. I studied him, trying to gauge whether he was joking or serious. How could a man like him—so dedicated to justice, who has never even touched drugs—have committed a crime? It was beyond my understanding. I thought he was joking, that he'd laugh it off, but his expression remained solemn. He hadn't taken his eyes off me once, and an uneasy feeling began to grow in my stomach.
I cleared my throat, trying to shift the mood. "Well, now it's your turn," I said softly, spinning the bottle gently. When it pointed to Ethan, I silently reflected on how people often misjudge me. I added with a small smile, "You know, I told you people don't guess my age correctly. The day before yesterday, a guy asked me out on a date, but I showed him my wedding ring, and he left right away." I shrugged, trying to brush off the discomfort, but inside, I felt a strange guilt creeping in.
We didn't talk much after that. Exhausted, we eventually went to bed. That lingering question gnawed at me—I shouldn't have asked. Everyone keeps a deep secret they're reluctant to share. Don't I have one too? As I lay there, I noticed Ethan hadn't slept yet; he was simply lying there, seemingly ignoring me. Guilt washed over me. Quietly, I whispered, "I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to hurt you." My voice was soft, filled with remorse.
I reached out and hugged him gently, whispering again, "I'm sorry." For a moment there was silence, then He responded with a soft sigh, "Sometimes one should keep some things bottled up. Not everything is for sharing."
I simply nodded, feeling the weight of unspoken words between us. We fell into silence, drifting into sleep. My perfect man handled the situation very maturely.
But in the middle of the night, I was abruptly awakened by a strange noise. I found myself hugging pillows instead of Ethan. Heart pounding, I got up and quietly looked for him outside, but he was nowhere to be seen. A twinge of fear crept in as I scanned the darkened room cautiously.
Then my eyes fell on the back door, which was slightly ajar. My heart skipped a beat. Holding a vase as a makeshift weapon, I tiptoed closer and slowly pushed the door open. Outside, I saw a strange and startling sight: Ethan, in the dark, practicing with a real katana. I knew he was a fitness freak and skilled in martial arts, but where had he gotten a katana? As far as I knew, such weapons weren't easily available. More bewildering still—why hadn't I known it was in our house?
Steeling myself, I decided to quietly observe him. Ethan moved with focused intensity, practicing in the shadows. He was completely unaware of my presence. My eyebrows shot up when I saw him pull out a mannequin and deliver a powerful blow, severing its neck with precision and force.
A cold sweat broke out on my hands and feet, the chill spreading rapidly. Panic clawed at my chest. What if this wasn't just practice? Had Ethan ever hurt anyone with that kind of intensity? The thought spiraled uncontrollably, even though I knew I shouldn't go there. My mind raced—what if, one day, we had a major argument? Would he ever raise his hand against me? The question haunted me, unbidden and invasive. I shook my head violently, trying to dispel the dark thoughts. "You're crazy," I muttered to myself. "Why would your husband hit you?"
Slowly, I lowered the vase, my hands trembling slightly. I wondered whether all this—his secret practice in the dark, the intense focus—was somehow a way for him to calm his nerves, to manage some inner storm I hadn't seen. My heart pounded loudly in my ears as I tiptoed back to the bedroom, feeling a strange mixture of fear and confusion.
Just as I was about to sit on the bed, my eyes caught something odd—the window was slightly open. My pulse quickened. My mind immediately jumped to worst-case scenarios. Then, my gaze shifted to the flowers placed just outside the window—a small bouquet of lilies. My stomach clenched. Ethan hates lilies; I remember him saying they remind him of something dark from his past. He would never have brought them into our home.
A jolt of unease shot through me. Someone had entered our house. Someone had come in without us knowing. My breath caught, and I instinctively wanted to run to Ethan, to find safety in his presence. But I was frozen, rooted to the spot, unable to move even a step. Damn you, Audrey. Run!
Oh God, why does peace always seem just out of reach? Why can't I spend even a single day without this creeping dread since our anniversary?