The Morning Everything Changed
When Michael told me he had a three-day work trip, I felt something shift in me.
I watched him pack his bag, kiss me on the cheek, and walk out the door. I stood in the hallway for a long moment after his car pulled away.
Then I walked into the bedroom.
I stood at the foot of the bed for a while, just looking at it. The mattress that had become, in my mind, the center of something unexplained. The thing that Michael never wanted me to touch.
I went to the kitchen and came back with a cutter.
My hands were shaking.
I dragged the mattress to the center of the room, away from the wall, away from the frame. I stood over it and took a long breath. Then I made the first cut.
The smell that rushed out was overwhelming. Damp, stale, and thick — the kind that had been sealed away for a long time. I gagged and stepped back.
But I kept going.
What Was Hidden Inside
I cut deeper, peeling back layers of fabric and foam. And then I stopped.
There was something inside.
A plastic bag, tightly sealed, already showing signs of moisture damage and mold growth along the edges. My heart was hammering as I reached in and pulled it out.
I set it on the floor and opened it slowly.
