For weeks, I’d brushed it off — the red ring I kept finding in my pocket each morning before leaving for work. I’d thought maybe it was a silly habit, a charm, or even some sentimental thing my wife liked to do.
But that changed the moment I opened her wardrobe.
At first, I was just looking for a sweater — the air conditioner had broken again, and I was freezing. But when I reached up to grab one of her boxes, something fell out — a small, wooden box sealed with a rusty padlock.
The lock was old but fragile. It took only a few minutes — and a little guilt — to pry it open.
Inside were three things:
-
a small silver padlock,
-
a photo of me, folded and creased at the edges,
-
and the same blue container I had once seen her hide behind her vanity mirror.
My curiosity won over my hesitation. I opened the container…
And froze.
Inside were several red rings, all identical — soaked in water, their color faintly bleeding into the liquid like they were alive.
My heart began to hammer. My hands trembled so badly I nearly dropped the container.
Why my picture? Why so many rings?
What did she do with them?
I stood there, paralyzed, until I heard footsteps approaching.
Panic surged through me. I shoved everything back into the box, sealed it shut, and slid it behind her clothes just as the door opened.
“Hey, honey, we’re back,” she said sweetly, smiling like nothing was wrong. Her cousin stood behind her with grocery bags.
“Oh, you’re welcome,” I stammered, trying to sound casual.
She frowned. “You’re sweating. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Just… work stress.”
She tilted her head. “Stop thinking so much,” she said softly — but her tone had no warmth. It was cold. Measured.
And then she walked away.
That night, I couldn’t eat. The taste of dinner turned to ash in my mouth.
She kept chatting normally, asking about my day, telling me about the new recipe she wanted to try. But all I could see was that box. My photo. The rings.
Later, when she went to shower, I sat on the couch, staring blankly at the flickering news broadcast. I couldn’t think straight.
What if she noticed I’d touched the box?
What if she already knew?
When we finally went to bed, I lay there, pretending to sleep — every nerve in my body on alert. I wanted to go back, to take my picture out of that box, but it was too risky.
No, I can’t rush this.
If I confront her now, she’ll just lie.
I need to be calm. Watch. Wait.
The next morning, I got dressed quietly. She was in the kitchen, humming — that same tune she always sang when she made breakfast.
As I walked past, she smiled, stepping forward to hug me goodbye.
“Don’t!” I blurted.
Her smile faded. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
I didn’t answer. I just grabbed my briefcase and walked out.
Halfway to work, I reached into my pocket, expecting to feel the smooth plastic of the red ring.
Nothing.
For the first time in weeks, it was gone.
And that’s when it hit me — she was the one putting it there.
She knew I’d discovered something.
But what was the meaning behind those rings?
And… who exactly was the woman I had married?
That evening, I decided to go home early — to catch her off guard.
But as I turned into our street, I noticed something that made my blood run cold.
Our front door was slightly open. The lights were off.
I froze. My phone buzzed with a new message — an unknown number.
“You shouldn’t have opened the box.”
My heart dropped. I turned toward the house — and saw two silhouettes moving inside.
It wasn’t just her.
They had been waiting for me.
And before I could react, the lights in the hallway flickered on…
and everything went black.
