My wife, Su Wan, has a mahogany box that she will never touch.
She always touches it late at night, her eyes are so gentle that it makes my heart palpitate. We were married two years, and she was perfect—remembering all my preferences, saturating my life with the gardenia scent I relied on, and caring for my post-traumatic stress disorder. However, her body temperature is always low, and there is always a hint of unnatural coolness when touched; the old injury on the back of her neck will occasionally show an unnatural texture under certain lights.
Until I came home early on a rainy night and saw her standing in front of the mirror. The bathrobe was half removed, revealing a tight, unfeminine waist and abdomen. And the mahogany box that had never been opened was spread out on the coffee table in the living room - it was not jewelry, but a pale human hand bone.
"She" slowly turned back, her wet hair sticking to her forehead, and her Adam's apple rolling under the bionic skin that had not been removed. The small mole under the right eye that I had kissed countless times looked like a solid tear under the pale light.
"Zhizhi," the familiar voice used a cold and hard tone that I had feared for seven years and could never be mistaken, "You are back."
At that moment, the curtain of my perfect marriage was completely torn apart. A gentle wife, a caring partner, a light that healed me—all carefully crafted lies. What's locked in the mahogany box is not only the horrific hand bones, but also a specimen possession that started in a high school toilet cubicle and lasted for a full ten years.
And standing in front of me, my "wife" turned out to be the most terrifying nightmare in my life.
——Shh, don't be afraid. Now, let me love you. In my way, forever.
Intention: He inherited his father's way of "love", but he didn't know that it was a kind of violence.