The night air was sharp and cold, biting against Ling Buyi's skin as she stepped out of the car. She shivered violently, wrapping her arms around her thin frame in a futile attempt to ward off the chill. Her husband, of course, had refused to give her his sweater or even turn up the heat during the drive. Now, as she stood outside their grand home—her former home, but now the residence of his parents—the dread settled in her stomach like a stone.
This house had once been her sanctuary, a place she had dreamed of filling with love and laughter. But now, it was nothing more than a prison. Her husband had manipulated her into signing the deed over to his parents shortly after their wedding, insisting it was for the "good of the family." And now, she no longer felt any ownership over it. Stepping through those doors felt like walking into the gates of hell.
