A Terrifying Honeymoon

My heart was racing, tinged with a whisper of fear.

Mike was swiftly handling the dishes, my gaze locked on his arm.

There was a light pink scar on his brawny arm, a badge from when we were new, trying to shield me, and a shard of glass got him instead.

At that moment, I was certain—the man before me was indeed Mike.

"Noticed the beef was loaded with onions," I dropped casually.

He shrugged it off, "Really? Must've wolfed it down without tasting much."

Really?

That can't be right!

He's super sensitive to onions—could tell if they were even near his food and would refuse to eat it.

How could he possibly not have noticed?

I was about to respond when the doorbell chimed.

The hotel staff was there to pick up the dishes, and Mike took the chance to ask them to fix a clogged drain.

His phone was still on the table, lighting up suddenly.

I sneaked a peek instinctively.

My heart skipped a beat.

The screen showed a chilling message: [When are you going to do it...?]

Mike was plotting to kill me!

"Jess?" His voice called out, sounding a bit strained as he quickly pocketed his phone, wary of me seeing too much.

"What's up?" I managed to ask, feigning calm.

"Let's stretch our legs and clear our heads with a walk," he suggested, grabbing his jacket from the table and signaling for me to follow.

As he threw on his jacket, something shiny slipped from the lining and clattered to the floor.

It was a knife!

Was he planning on using it outside?

A chill ran down my spine.

Panic set in, and every sense heightened.

No, I couldn't go outside—not with cameras everywhere here in the safety of the hotel.

He bent down swiftly, retrieving the knife.

As it caught the light, I instinctively stepped back, distancing myself while my hands searched behind me.

My fingers closed around a hotel umbrella, which I gripped firmly.

Mike examined the knife, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Huh? How did this fruit knife get in my jacket?"

He casually placed it back on the table, pushing me, "Let's hit the road, come on."

My hands were sweaty, the umbrella handle slipping and falling with a thud.

I looked down and cleared my throat awkwardly, "I think I'll stay in... feeling a bit off, need to sleep early."

Mike paused, his disappointment clear as day.

"It's a perfect night for a stroll, come on!"

I shook my head again.

He pressed on, "Jess, I'm always swamped at work, we rarely get these moments. Let's make the most of it!"

I grew more agitated, raising my voice, "I said no! Go by yourself if you're so keen!"

He glanced down and sighed softly, "Alright, rest up then."

And with that, he was gone.

I tiptoed to the door and watched through the peephole as his figure receded down the hallway.

I finally relaxed, feeling a temporary relief.

"Phew..."

I slumped into the sofa, letting out a long, relieved sigh.

Now what?

Call the cops?

But that old woman's note was pointed inside—cameras couldn't have caught it.

And the incriminating text was on Mike's phone.

No concrete evidence.

Would the cops even take my word for it?

And if Mike knew I was onto him, what would stop him from acting right then and there...?

Thoughts swirling, I was lost in a sea of confusion.

My goodness!

Maybe it was best to pack up and make a break for it before deciding anything else.

"Knock, knock, knock..."

That sound again at the door.

The old woman, perhaps?

Just what I needed—I had a slew of questions for her.

Dropping my suitcase, I swung the door open.

"Jessica, looking pretty chipper tonight!"

It was a tall girl standing there.

"Mandy!"

My heart leaped—my best friend had come.

I yanked her inside and poured out everything that had happened tonight.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with feigned shock, then burst into laughter, shaking uncontrollably.

Finally, she pointed at me, laughing, "Jess, are you out of your mind?!"

My puzzled look prompted her to explain, "Wondering why I'm here?"

"Your husband sent me! He felt bad about not popping the question in style and wanted to set up a memorable proposal tonight. You wouldn't budge, so he sent me to fetch you."

That explained it. But the old woman—what was her deal?

Mandy rolled her eyes, "You're a grad student, for crying out loud. Everyone knows not to chat up strangers."

"She knew our names," I offered weakly.

Mandy scoffed, "Info leaks are a dime a dozen these days! Had you gone with her, who knows? You might've ended up in a real fix. You hear about it all the time—innocent people led astray, ending up who knows where. They'd have you married off in the sticks!" She laughed heartily.

That did make sense.

I laughed awkwardly, ashamed of my earlier panic, swiftly steering the conversation elsewhere, "Let's head over then."

"It's chilly out! I'll grab one of your coats," she said, heading to the bedroom.

I tidied my hair a bit.

The curtains blew in from the cold breeze.

A shadow was fixed outside the window.

It was the old woman again!

She was pressing a white paper against the glass, pounding it urgently, her eyes brimming with tears. She seemed desperate.

Driven by a sudden burst of curiosity, I moved closer to make out the words on the paper.

[Run! Or you'll die!]