On the day of her wedding, Sonya stood before an antique mirror in a heavy white dress that felt like someone else’s costume. Her hands trembled as she clutched a bouquet of wildflowers—picked by her best friend, Maria.
“You are strong, Sonya. Remember that,” Maria whispered, hugging her from behind.
Sonya nodded, but tears were already streaming down her cheeks.

The ceremony took place in a small village church. Candles flickered, and the smell of wax mixed with fading flowers filled the air. Michael, her groom, wore a dark, perfectly tailored suit. His silver hair gleamed under the warm light of the candles, and his lined face betrayed decades of life behind him. When the priest asked if she agreed to marry him, Sonya’s voice cracked.
“Yes…” she managed to say, almost choking on her words.

To the guests, this wedding looked like a stroke of luck. A young, beautiful village girl marrying a wealthy man from the city—it seemed like a fairy tale. But Sonya knew the truth. Her father was drowning in debt, the family home was on the verge of being taken by creditors, and this marriage was the only way to save her family from ruin.

As Michael slid the heavy gold ring onto her finger, her tears wouldn’t stop. She wasn’t crying from happiness. It was fear, despair, and the weight of an unknown future pressing down on her.

A New Life in a Stranger’s House
After the ceremony, Michael drove her to his home in the city—a mansion with towering ceilings, marble floors, and rooms that seemed too grand and cold to be lived in. Servants bowed politely at the entrance, and Sonya felt like a frightened child in a palace of strangers.

Michael noticed her unease and gently took her hand.
“Give yourself time to get used to it,” he said softly.

But she felt like an imposter. Her plain shoes and simple mannerisms clashed with the overwhelming luxury around her. Every portrait on the walls—depicting stern-faced ancestors—seemed to watch her with silent judgment.

The Silence of the Night
When evening fell, Sonya, exhausted and overwhelmed, asked permission to retreat to her room.
“Of course. Rest, my dear,” Michael said, his voice calm but carrying a tone she couldn’t quite read.

Closing the door behind her, she collapsed on the enormous bed, its silk sheets cold and unfamiliar. For the first time that day, she let herself cry silently into the pillow. Sleep refused to come. Her thoughts were a whirlwind—her family, the sudden change in her life, and what awaited her in this strange house.

The Sound of Water
Then she heard it—a soft, persistent sound, like water running somewhere nearby. She sat up, holding her breath. The sound came from the bathroom adjoining the hallway. At first, she thought it was just normal—maybe Michael taking a bath. But something about the sound unsettled her.

“What if something happened to him?” she thought. He was much older, and although he appeared healthy, she couldn’t shake the thought that something might go wrong.

Her heartbeat quickened. She slipped on a light robe over her nightgown and stepped into the dark corridor barefoot. The hallway was engulfed in shadows, and only a thin stripe of light seeped from under the bathroom door. She hesitated, holding the doorknob.

Suddenly, the sound of water stopped. The silence was so heavy it felt like the house itself was holding its breath.

What She Saw
Before Sonya could decide what to do, the bathroom door swung open. Michael stood there. But something about him made her freeze. His face was flushed, his damp silver hair clung to his forehead, and his eyes gleamed with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

What terrified her, however, wasn’t his expression—it was the small wooden box in his hand. Water dripped from its corners as if it had been submerged. On his arms were deep, fresh scars—long, thin lines that looked like cuts.

Sonya’s breath caught in her throat.
“What… what is that?” she stammered, pointing at the box.

Michael’s gaze hardened. He stepped closer, his voice low but firm.
“You don’t need to know tonight. Tomorrow, perhaps. For now… don’t be afraid of me.”

But fear consumed her. Her knees weakened, and she nearly collapsed, but he caught her arm, his hand cold and damp. She felt as though she was trapped, not just in this house but in a story far darker than she had ever imagined.

The Unspoken Secrets
That night, Sonya didn’t sleep. Through the walls, she heard his footsteps, the creak of doors, the faint scraping of something heavy being moved. Her thoughts raced—who was this man she had married? What was hidden in that box? Why did he look at her with such strange, burning eyes?

She realized something terrible: this marriage wasn’t just the price she paid to save her family. It might cost her much more—her freedom, maybe even her life.