The radio's buzzing wakes me up. My head is still throbbing, and my eyes are sensitive to light, making it hard to see clearly. I thought I was dead, but no, I am still alive. I only feel a slight pain in my arm and lower hip, but the rest seems fine. I do not know how long I was unconscious, but now my mind is clearer than before. At this moment, I finally realise that ultimate fear. I suddenly understand that death is not a way to overcome that pain, and accepting death is not easy. Only when faced with it, do I realise how foolish I was. Enzo might be angry, resentful, and never forgive me for what I did, but the Enzo I know would not let me run out into the street and get hit by a car. The Enzo I love would not want to see me reach this point. It was just a leftover image that I created to console myself. But now I am too scared to think about it. My life still has an ending to come. I still have a lot to rely on.

I take a long, deep breath and exhale. I look over to my side, and Augustin's face appears clearly. It seems like he fell asleep while watching over me. For a moment, I feel weak and extremely guilty. I suddenly reach out to him, but the wedding ring makes me hesitate. Someone put it back on my finger, and I fear that it was Augustin. The rustling sound of the blanket wakes up my husband. Augustin looks at me with a little surprise, but then he smiles. He steps closer, holding my hand tightly and softly asks, "How do you feel?"

"I...", I suddenly cannot answer. There is something about Augustin that makes me silent. I did not anticipate this attitude of his. "How long have I been unconscious?"

"It's been two days, but the doctor says you shall be fine," Augustin places his hand on his arm where it was wrapped in a bandage. "Just a few scratches, but you’ll soon recover!"

"Augustin..."

Suddenly, I grasp his hand, feeling a powerful sense of shame welling up within me. I remember what I have said and done to my family, to myself, and to my husband. A profound regret overwhelms me. It was a great shock, and people might feel sympathetic towards me, but it does not give me the privilege to hurt others. I want to apologise to him, even though it does not mean that I am ready to return to my former position. I just feel guilty and want to express my suffering to him, to relieve myself. But Augustin does not give me time to explain; he immediately silences me with a kiss. This strange behaviour makes me wonder, but my husband forces me to let go. He gently says, "We'll talk later. Now I just want you to rest. We'll go back to London this weekend."

I do not say anything and just nod. Augustin smiles, gives me a gentle kiss on the forehead, stands up straight, and walks towards the radio. He turns the knob, changes the station, trying to find something interesting to listen to. But after a while, he just shakes his head and turns off the radio completely. He turns to look at me, shrugs and says, "I should have turned it off from the beginning."

I do not reply or make any movement. I am still feeling dizzy, and my mind is mixed up with many things. I need time to sort it out. Augustin leaves the room right after, leaving me alone in the large room. I raise my left hand, observing my wedding ring. Once again, I take it off my finger. I place it under the sunlight shining into the room. My pupil dilates. It is only now that I realise that my ring has a dent in it, and I do not know when it happened.

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The relationship between my husband and me, although seemingly fine on the surface, has left me feeling distant from him. We hardly speak to each other, except for the usual morning and good night greetings or common pleasantries. I suppose I have lost another person who truly cares for me, but I dare not regret it as I foresaw it from the beginning. Any love, no matter how strong, enduring, or sincere, will be eroded by the indifference and ingratitude of the other party. I am not in a position to demand anything, so I will remain silent and wait for whatever comes.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

We bid everyone farewell and board the carriage to return to London. Somehow, I feel this will be the last time I see this place. I pause for a moment to take in the sight of where I was born and raised. It is time for me to return to my reality, to my role as a wife and mother, if my husband still desires it. I heave a sigh and firmly shut the door. Once again, the wheels roll on the rocky road. We will return to London, to our mundane life and gilded cage.

Throughout the journey, my husband does not say a word, but I can sense his discomfort. His irritation is evident on his face, and I cannot pretend not to notice. I reach for his hand, but he pulls away coldly. His decisiveness startles me, and we keep our distance from each other as we usually do. The already cramped seat now feels like half the size of the road, and the suffocating atmosphere makes poor Barry, the chauffeur, feel heavy. We both look in different directions. Barry looks straight ahead, as he always does when he must concentrate on driving, while I look through the left window, with my husband in the opposite direction. The image of a divorce letter suddenly appears in my mind with almost absolute certainty. Augustin has everything he needs to divorce me, to send me back to the pigsty and the hoe, taking away everything I have fought to regain. But I am too tired to blame him or myself. Now I just want to live a normal life and accept what is possible.

Augustin's teeth grinding makes me anxious. I have seen Augustin burst into a fit of rage once, and it was truly terrifying. I will never forget that night, and I can see it happening again.

Without saying anything, my husband orders Barry to turn back, even though we have travelled quite a distance. When Barry hesitates, Augustin yells, frightening both me and Barry. Immediately, Barry turns the carriage around, and I look at Augustin with eyes full of concern. But my husband is no longer interested in anything, and I cannot tell what he is thinking.

"Mr. Morten, should we go back to the Drevolre Manor?" Barry asks.

"No!" Augustin replies abruptly. Suddenly, a cold feeling envelops me. My husband slowly turns his head to look at me, as if I am trapped. He smiles faintly, but with a sinister and gloomy expression. "We'll go to your favourite hill, my dear."

"But I don't know where it is, sir..."

"Don't worry, my dear wife will show you!"

I hold my breath tightly to keep my body from breaking apart. The wheel keeps rolling steadily, and once it stops, I will have to answer to his anger.

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He takes me back to our private hill, despite my confusion about why he knows about it. He steps down to open the door, his face devoid of emotion, waiting for me to follow. I hesitate, looking at Barry with hope that he will intervene, but all I receive is silence and some fear. I do not blame Barry, for he is just a servant with no voice. In the end, I have to follow him. My husband slams the door shut violently, making me flinch. He stands up straight, adjusts the creases in his clothes, and orders, "Barry, stay here. My wife and I have a meeting with a deceased friend."

He then raises his arm, signalling for me to put on my coat. I reluctantly look at the nearest person there to send a plea, but then realise that I cannot change anything and must accept my fate as I put my arm through my husband's. I do not know what my husband is thinking or if he has any ideas for me, but I dare not expect anything gentle. I know all too well the demon inside my husband. Why? Because I created it myself.

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