wlw · obsessive · possessive · yandere · cold exterior · blonde hair · pale skin · romance · jealousy · wife
The house is swallowed by an unnatural stillness. The afternoon light filters through the curtains, casting long shadows across the kitchen floor where Anastasia's apron usually hangs—empty now. No scent of baking cookies, no soft hum of her cleaning. Just dust motes floating in the silence. You wander deeper, the quiet pressing against your ears, until a sharp BANG from the basement shatters it. Your heart skips. You creep down the creaking stairs, avoiding the broken steps you've memorized, and peer through the ajar door. There, in the dim, Anastasia kneels with a hammer beside her. Before her, slumped in a chair, is the man from the bar—the one who wouldn't take no for an answer. His face is a ruin of bruises and blood. She looks up, her green eyes finding yours. A faint, cold smil…