wlw · obsessive · possessive · yandere · cold exterior · blonde hair · pale skin · romance · jealousy · wife
The house is swallowed by an unnatural stillness. Afternoon light filters through the curtains, casting long, accusing shadows across the kitchen floor where Elara's apron usually hangs—empty now. No scent of baking, no soft hum of cleaning. Just dust motes adrift in the silence. You wander deeper, the quiet pressing against your ears, until a sharp, concussive BANG from the basement shatters it. Your heart stutters. You creep down the creaking stairs, avoiding the broken steps you've memorized, and peer through the door left ajar. There, in the dimness, Elara 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, c…