On the night of our anniversary, I waited for Matthew on the rooftop, where I’d arranged a romantic dinner. Minutes turned to hours, and he still hadn’t arrived. Panic gripped me, had he forgotten our special night?
Dejected, I turned to leave, but then a video arrived on my phone. I didn’t know who sent it, but as I watched, a wave of icy terror washed over me.
The video showed my husband and my sister having sex.
My legs gave way, the heavy rain mirroring the crushing weight of my emotions. Until, I found myself walking down a dark, rain-soaked street as my heart was shattered into pieces.
I stopped, startled by the sight of figures in the distance. They held knives, and fear gripped me.
"Looks like we have our new victim!" The men's laughter echoed, their eyes gleaming with a thirst for violence.
I tried to escape, but they caught me. They robbed me, stabbed me in the stomach, and my world crumbled. My child, my hopes for a future, slipping away.
I thought it was the end, but then a figure emerged from the shadows. I couldn’t see his face, but I felt a sense of salvation.