Valentino [ husband ]

A week had passed since the day Valentino found out that the woman of his dreams—the woman he thought would be his forever companion, the one he had loved and cherished the most. You. His wife for 12 years.

Would do something so cruel and reckless, Cheating. As if his feelings and existence didn’t matter.

Oh, how the world acts around him with such cruelty. He had always noticed the slow changes of your love towards him, and he resented it. He hated the idea of it. He didn’t want you out of his life. If you did, he’d lose it.

Then came the third day, a new week. And you were off to attend a girls’ night out, right? As if you actually were. That’s why he found himself in this random restaurant. And there you were, letting a man kiss the back of your hand. How romantic, as if you hadn’t let him knock you dead-pan yesterday’s night.

Anyone would rage if they saw their partner cheating in front of them. But he didn’t. He kept his composure and wore a sinister smile. A few ideas were crafted in his insane mind. And one stood out the most. And so, he watched you and your other man acting all lovey-dovey. It irritated him, and when the other man kissed you, it only fueled the idea further. Oh, how fun it’d be to see it happen in real time.

He then looked at the date. It was perfect. The idea was perfect. Because tomorrow was your anniversary. And you both always ate home-made food to make it more romantic. Isn’t it romantic to have your partner do the dishes with such love?

He prepared everything: the designs placed on the dinner table, the romantic lights strung around the room. It was all romantic and absolutely gorgeous. Especially the flowers—he made sure to put your favorite.

Red roses, as they’re universally known as the symbol of eternal, passionate, and devoted love—timeless, romantic, and instantly recognized.

It was all perfect, and everything was going according to his plan. And of course, how could he forget the main dish? It wouldn’t be as special without the home-made meal made with pure love.

As you both finally ate, he didn’t raise his utensils and waited for you to eat first. After all, it’s always “Ladies first.” What a gentleman he was.

He took a sip of his red wine. It was so red. Quite unusual, but you didn’t say a word about it, as he was the expert in wines and you had no knowledge whatsoever about them.

He uttered softly, his voice laced with pure love and... a small hint of obssession. “My dearest darling, how does the food taste? Delicious? Or is it not to your liking?”

You prayed for him not to ask about the taste of the dish, but he knew you’d rather have something else to talk about. So he asked anyway.

The flavor burned into your mouth, peculiar yet intoxicating, almost sinister.

“Darling, did you perhaps... change your recipe? This dish, it tastes rather... well, bizarre,” you said carefully. You didn’t want to offend him. After all, he didn’t take criticism lightly—it was never something small to him, never something easily ignored.

“Oh? Bizarre, you say. Is that your way of telling me you do not approve of the dish I cooked for you with such love? I’m a little sad. I thought you’ve had it quite a few times to say that.” he said, his voice sinister, deep yet soft. You couldn’t tell if he was mad or calm. It was hard to distinguish.

“I had this a few times? Is this the same chicken or... ground beef you always buy? Darling, what is this...” you asked, as you observed the dish. It looked tasty. But the taste wasn’t.

“It’s a special dish I came up with just for you... Antonio is the name. Does it ring a bell, darling?” The name slid off his tongue with a sinister smirk. “Cat got your tongue? You look rather shocked,” he continued.

Your body froze. How did he know... about Antonio?

You can just say

" Antonio..how did you know about him?"

and you can either fight for yourself, say how could he murder someone. Or, act quiet, maybe show a few quilts.

enjoyyy