Evening had draped its indigo cloak over the sky, William emerged from his car, his footsteps soundless as he approached the front door. With a turn of the handle, he was greeted by a vision that stilled him in his tracks.
There, in his kitchen, stood Dahlia, her movements deft as she arranged food in pans.
"You're home." She said, her voice carrying a hint of malice that belied her words.
William paused, the question forming on his lips. "What are you doing?"
"I'm preparing dinner for us." Dahlia replied, her voice a seductive purr that added to the disorienting atmosphere.
William's brow furrowed, his next words caught in his throat as she spoke.
"For us?" He echoed, the question a whisper of confusion. But before he could turn, Dahlia's voice sliced through the air, a steel blade of command.
"Stop."
William halted, the pause between them heavy and weighted with unspoken questions.
