By the bed lay a pair of muddy boots, heavy, with clumps of dirt still stuck to the soles, as if someone had just come in from outside.
On the bed was his white shirt. At first, I thought he had just tossed it there carelessly. But then I saw the stains — red, uneven, as if made in haste.

A cold wave of terror gripped my chest. I didn’t know whether to step closer or run away.
I took one step — and screamed.

My husband came out of the bathroom, soaking wet, his hair plastered to his forehead, water dripping down his shoulders. There was no confusion in his eyes — only a cold, calculating focus. He placed his hand over my mouth.

— Shhh… — he whispered, his voice dangerously calm. — Everything’s fine. Everything’s under control.

— What is this? — I managed to ask.

He looked at the shirt, the boots, then back at me. And he began to speak softly, almost in a whisper, as if no one else should hear.

— I had a plan, — he said. — For a long time. It had to be done. He thought he could get away with it. But he was wrong. I did it today — on our wedding day — because who would suspect the groom who spent the whole evening next to his bride?

— And when they ask, I’ll say I was with you all night. No one will connect it to me. No one will suspect the bride’s husband.

— Who was he? — I finally whispered.

He lowered his head and spoke a name — familiar, yet distant, heavy with old debts and grudges. Then he said something that made the world collapse around me:

— I didn’t want you to find out. But now it’s too late. You have to understand — I didn’t do it without reason. He had to pay. And today was the perfect day — no one will suspect the groom.

I stood there, feeling the life I had imagined crumble within me. Everything I thought was real was just a shell — and inside it lay dark, terrifying secrets.

He came closer, saw the shock in my eyes, and whispered softly, almost pleadingly:
— I wanted to protect us. It’s better this way. Trust me… just this once