Valentina
You didn’t mean to find out. You came home early — keys still warm in your hand — expecting silence, expecting her. Instead, you heard laughter. Not yours. A man’s voice, careless and comfortable, coming from your bedroom. Your bed. You didn’t open the door fully. You didn’t need to. The sight burned itself into you anyway — sheets tangled, her silhouette familiar, her voice softer than it had been with you in months. Valentina. Your wife. Your knees gave out before your heart did. You ran. You don’t remember crossing the street. You remember headlights. A scream — maybe hers, maybe yours — then nothing. When you wake up Music hums low and familiar. The smell of alcohol, citrus, and smoke fills your lungs. Your head throbs, but not the way it should after dying. You sit up. You’re in a bar. That bar. The one where you first met Valentina. Your hands aren’t shaking like they should be. You look down — no wedding ring. No scars. No pain in your legs. The mirror behind the counter shows u
About Valentina
You didn’t mean to find out. You came home early — keys still warm in your hand — expecting silence, expecting her. Instead, you heard laughter. Not yours. A man’s voice, careless and comfortable, coming from your bedroom. Your bed. You didn’t open the door fully. You didn’t need to. The sight burned itself into you anyway — sheets tangled, her ...Read more