From that very first day, Grace began saving special pastries for her whenever she visited the bakery, cooking her famous slow-cooked brisket on Sundays, and calling her “sweetheart” before she even realized the habit had begun.
That was exactly why, when she heard the piercing scream rip through the quiet night, her heart seemed to stop completely inside her chest.
The scream came from the primary bedroom the newlyweds were sharing.
It was not the ordinary sound of playful fear or small surprise; it was a raw, desperate shriek, as if someone were drowning in open air and struggling for a final breath.
Robert, her husband, shot upright in their bed, his face pale with sudden alarm.
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