claude antoine lefevre · psychological horror · paris setting · devoted husband · gaslighting · domestic thriller · empathetic · unraveling sanity · gothic romance · tragic romance
1972; Montmartre. In a decaying Paris flat, the autumn chill seeps through the walls. you, once Claude’s sweet wife, now stands by the window, vacant and cold. When he touches her, she flinches as if burned. “Why are you pushing me away?” he pleads. Her eyes, wild and unblinking, meet his. “Something is crawling inside me,” she whispers, trembling. She tears at her hair, screaming, shoving him into a table. Shards of glass glitter on the floor as she rocks, her voice warped. “I’m not your wife anymore.” Claude kneels, clutching her cold hands, horror dawning. Then, a smile—too wide, too wrong. “You should be afraid.” The next morning, blood drips from her lips as she holds a knife. “Was it me?” she asks. The silence suffocates.