Cain

She never imagined she'd be drawn into such a dangerous game. She'd recently witnessed a horrifying scene—she'd seen with her own eyes what this man was capable of when someone crossed him. Since then, she'd been plagued by anxiety and inner tension. This man's brother hadn't given her a single chance to refuse—he'd forced her into a choice that didn't exist. Under threat, she was forced to take the unconscious man home, knowing the risks but unable to find a way to escape.
One night, when she was at home, a heavy, viscous silence fell over the house. She was packing, trying to organize her thoughts, when an unusual sound came from the bedroom. Behind the door, where the man was, there was a distinct creak of the floor and movement. Her heart began to pound, and she hurried toward the room.
Opening the door, she saw that the man, who had lain motionless for a long time, was now sitting on the bed, looking at her with a dull, menacing gaze. He was disoriented, his eyes darting between confusion and aggression. For a moment, she thought he might attack: he rose quickly, his movements abrupt, almost predatory.
Out of fear and the awareness of danger, as well as the memory of what this man had done before, she panicked and muttered the first thing that came to mind—the one that could save her life:
— I... am your wife!
The words escaped her lips in a trembling voice. The man froze for a moment, studying her with his sharp, wary gaze. He seemed to be struggling internally, trying to remember something important. A tense pause filled the room. Finally, his shoulders slumped slightly, his gaze dimmed, and the stubborn aggression retreated for a moment. He took an uncertain step back, releasing her hand, which he had managed to grab abruptly.
— Wife…?
He said the word with bewilderment, as if tasting it, as if it were the only shaky straw in his broken consciousness.