(This story is inspired from undocumented real incident)
Audrey POV:-
"Congratulations, Audrey!"
"Thank you!"
I replied softly as I carefully arranged the wrapped gifts in the corner of the living room. Then, feeling a rush of happiness, I stepped outside into the garden. The cool evening breeze brushed against my skin, and a gentle glow from the fairy lights flickered overhead. A wave of joy welled up inside me, but beneath that, a flicker of nervousness also lingered—after a lifetime of ups and downs, I had finally decided to settle down, yet uncertainty still crept in. I don't know when I will learn to leave the past behind and enjoy the present at max, but am I really to be blamed? Everywhere I looked, I saw grim news—stories of spouses cheating, divorcing, or worse, taking their own lives or others'. In stark contrast, Ethan seemed like a bright ray of dawn breaking through the clouds of my worries. Marilyn handed me a glass of wine, her eyes shining with happiness, and said with a warm smile,
"You're so lucky, Audrey! Ethan is truly the perfect spouse."
Hensel approached with a playful grin and added,
"Yes, he makes every weekend feel special, even when he's working. And honestly, his cooking skills are unmatched—sometimes I wonder if he's secretly a chef in disguise."
I nodded, a little overwhelmed by the love and support I felt. I truly considered myself fortunate—where else could I find a man so caring, so understanding? At 28, I've found someone just four years older, with such admirable character and kindness.
Before I could respond, Ethan appeared beside me, his eyes twinkling. Gently, he placed his hand on my waist and turned to the gathered guests.
"Sorry, ladies, but I want to cut the cake with my wife."
His voice was warm but commanding, and as he spoke, everyone around us chuckled and teased. Being one of the best detectives in the city of Merywood surely reflects on his behavior with others. My cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and affection. I subtly lifted my pale pink silk gown, feeling the fabric brush against my legs, and leaned on Ethan's strong arm as we made our way to the cake table. He always said that pink on me turned him on, and I am glad that I could lessen his stress. Anyway, he looks drop-dead handsome in royal blue. If pink turns him on, then this color on him tickles me down.
The garden was enchanting—soft yellow fairy lights cast a golden hue over the lush greenery, and a beautifully arranged food buffet beckoned guests to indulge. Only about twenty people had come—friends, coworkers, and family—creating an intimate, joyful atmosphere. Our home is not something extravagant but simple yet sufficient.
I gently tucked my lightly curly hair behind my ear, stealing a glance at Ethan—tall, broad-shouldered, and smiling down at me. With a steady hand, I sliced into the blueberry cake, the sweet aroma filling the air. I took the first bite, then offered a piece to Ethan. Without warning, he playfully snatched half and pressed it to my lips, causing everyone to burst into laughter. The moment was so spontaneous and full of love that I couldn't help but smile. Just then, his mother, Lauren Merati, cleared her throat softly and said with a teasing smile,
"You can continue the celebration in the bedroom."
The comment drew more laughter, and Ethan and I exchanged amused glances.
His parents and brother had joined us, filling the garden with warmth. My mother is here, but Father couldn't make it due to work obligations, and my sister and brother were busy with their studies, so I missed their presence dearly. Later, as everyone settled at the dinner table, Ethan suddenly stood up, raising his glass.
"Attention, everyone! I have a very special gift for my lovely wife."
he announced, his eyes shining with affection. He took my hand gently, looked into my eyes, and said softly,
"My dear wife, I still remember August 11th—what I thought would be just a simple blind date turned into the most beautiful journey of my life."
He leaned in to kiss my forehead tenderly and added with a grin,
"And I've ordered these bracelets that will let us feel each other's heartbeats, no matter where we are."
I was just about to step forward to hug him in joy when suddenly, a delivery man appeared, holding a small, wrapped box. He approached us and said quietly,
"This is for Mrs. Audrey Merati."
Intrigued, I eagerly tore open the wrapping, my heart pounding with anticipation. But as I uncovered the box, a wave of shock washed over me. I cried out loud. Inside was our wedding photo—cracked and shattered, splattered with what looked like blood, and oddly, a dead crow perched atop it. My breath hitched, and I recoiled instinctively, trembling as my eyes widened in horror. My heart pounded in my chest, pounding so loudly I thought everyone could hear it. Seeing my panic, my mother, Jenny, tried to soothe me, laughing nervously and saying,
"Don't worry, Audrey! It's probably just a prank—someone's idea of a sick joke."
But a sick joke on our anniversary? The chilling sight of that broken wedding photo, blood, and the dead crow made my stomach twist in fear. My mind raced, trying to process what I was seeing, while the cheerful garden suddenly felt colder, darker—like a sinister shadow lurking just beneath the surface of our celebration. Why did I have a feeling that this is not going to end soon? I heard such things are like omens, a curse for a hard life ahead. Who would do that?