Emily sat on the porch swing, watching her twin daughters play in the golden sunlight. Their laughter rang through the air, pure and untainted, filling her heart with warmth. She turned to her husband, Daniel, who was setting up the dinner table outside, his smile soft and full of love.
“This is perfect,” she whispered to herself. A dream of a life she had always wanted.
The girls, Lily and Rose, ran to her, their tiny hands grasping at the hem of her dress. “Mommy, come play with us!” they giggled.
She laughed, brushing their hair away from their beaming faces. “Alright, just for a little while.” She joined them on the soft grass, letting herself be pulled into their innocent world of games and joy.
As the evening descended, the family gathered around the dinner table. The smell of roasted chicken filled the air, and Daniel poured her a glass of wine. “To us,” he said, raising his glass, his eyes filled with admiration.
“To us,” Emily echoed, touching her glass to his, her heart swelling with gratitude. This was everything she had ever wanted—a beautiful home, loving children, and a husband who adored her.
As the night deepened, she tucked the twins into bed, kissing their foreheads. She felt the soft warmth of their skin, heard the rhythmic breathing as they drifted into dreams.
She made her way back downstairs, where Daniel waited for her, his arms open. She melted into his embrace, resting her head against his chest. “I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you more,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her hair.
Then, suddenly, the warmth faded.
The laughter disappeared.
The world around her began to shift, the colors draining away. The soft hum of life turned into an eerie silence. The cozy walls of their home faded into cold, gray concrete.
She blinked.
The warmth of Daniel’s arms was gone. She was alone.
The cold air bit at her skin. The faint flickering light above her buzzed harshly. Emily looked down at her hands, rough and bruised, bound by rusted cuffs. The scent of disinfectant and decay replaced the aroma of roasted chicken.
She was sitting in a small, dimly lit cell, a cracked mirror in front of her. Her reflection stared back, hollow eyes rimmed with dark circles.
A faint chuckle escaped her lips as she spoke to herself, her voice trembling.
“That could’ve been our life… if you didn’t push me this far.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. She let the reality settle in—the truth she had buried beneath the fantasy.
Daniel was never there. He never set the dinner table. He never smiled at her with love.
Because he was gone. Because she had killed him.
The altercation that night had spiraled out of control. Rage and pain had consumed her, and in one irreversible moment, she had ended the life of the man she once loved. And in doing so, she had also killed the future they could have had.
Her hands clenched into fists, the sound of the metal cuffs clinking echoing through the empty cell.
She closed her eyes, willing herself back to the dream. Back to the home, the laughter, the love. But it was gone.
All that remained was the cold, unforgiving reality of the life she had destroyed
Comments