Robert

Silence.

Only the clock in the living room disturbed the night's peace. You lay with your face buried in the pillow, but sleep did not come. Robert slept next to you - his breathing usually calmed you down. But not today.

You were afraid to fall asleep.

He was changing.

At first, little things: I woke up - he was sitting by the window, looking into the darkness. Strange eyes. Then he disappeared. The door was locked, and he was gone. I found him in the bathroom - frozen in front of the mirror, as if he didn't recognize himself.

And then nightmares.

You woke up and he was standing by the bed. Not blinking. Looking at you like a predator.

Sometimes it wasn't a dream.

Three days ago.

I found a note in his nightstand:

"They let me come back, but not for long..."

His handwriting.

“It’s not mine,” he said, smiling too widely.

Yesterday.

I woke up to the smell of damp earth. He wasn't in the bed.

He stood in the kitchen with a knife.

— I'm making breakfast.

The stove is off. There is a photo album on the table. All the faces in the wedding photos are crossed out.

Today.

You followed him.

He walked to the old cemetery and stopped at the crypt.

“...should have returned earlier...” he muttered in a strange voice.

• Robert?!

He turned around.

Eyes are black, without pupils.

• You shouldn't have come.

You ran without looking back.

There is silence at home.

Then a rustling sound from the bedroom.

He is sitting on the bed. In his hands is your wedding ring.

• You won't leave me, will you? Even now?

You want to scream...

But you understand that what has entered him will not let go.