My sister, Amber, had an allergic reaction after eating the meal I cooked. My husband, Warren, stormed into the house, grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and pinned me down, forcing me to drink every last drop.

"You should feel Amber's pain, too!" he shouted.

I broke out in hives, my throat swelling shut. Gasping, I begged him to call 911, but he ignored my cries and locked me in the room instead.

"You need to learn a lesson. Only when you've tasted the bitterness will you stop hurting others."

Despair overtook me as I felt the suffocating grip around my throat and the unbearable itching that spread across my skin. I fought to breathe, scratching my skin raw.

Three days later, he came up with some warped sense of mercy, deciding to "make it up to me" with a candlelit dinner.

"The punishment is over. Behave, and you'll still be Mrs. Chapman."

But he was too late. My body had already turned to ashes.

---

Warren absentmindedly twirled his smartphone, its screen casting shadows on his handsome face. Three days had passed without a single call from Mazie. Before, she would have clung to him every minute.

"Heh, I guess she's learned her lesson," he chuckled, dismissing her tear-streaked face with annoyance. His phone rang, breaking his reverie. He quickly answered.

"Mazie, you—"

"Sir, the lady's room hasn't been cleaned in days, and there's an odor…" It was the butler, Magnus.

"What kind of game is she playing now?" Warren's eyes flashed with annoyance. "Does she think this will make me come back? She's dreaming!"

Magnus hesitated. "Sir, she might already be—"

Warren cut him off. "Don't bother. Let her rot."

He hung up, frowning as Mazie's pale, tear-streaked face flashed through his mind.

"What are you thinking about?" Amber's sweet voice brought him back. She was nestled against him.

He stroked her silky hair gently, speaking in a tender voice, "Just some bothersome thoughts."

"Is it about Mazie again? I didn't mean to upset you about her," Amber said, her eyes wide with feigned concern.

Warren pulled her closer, comforting her softly. "Don't worry, sweetheart. She's just trying to get my attention, but I won't fall for it again."

"I promise I won't let her hurt you anymore…"

"But… but…" Amber's eyes flashed with sly satisfaction, quickly masked by concern.

Watching their display of affection, I couldn't help but laugh bitterly, though no one could hear me. I was already dead.

In my final moments of asphyxiation, I felt myself drift above the room, looking down at my twisted body on the floor. It was me, but it wasn’t anymore. I saw my own face, contorted in agony, my skin scratched raw.

How ironic that I died hoping Warren would remember my goodness and come save me. Meanwhile, Warren was with Amber, whispering sweet reassurances as she received an IV at the hospital.

"Warren, do you think something's happened to Mazie?" Amber's syrupy voice sickened me.

"Relax, she won't die. She's so afraid of death. What's a little allergy?" Warren replied casually.

I was stunned, my heart aching for a moment.

Amber had eaten a single peanut, and he rushed her to the hospital out of sheer concern. He forced an entire bottle of whiskey down my throat and locked me away.

Yes, I feared death.

So I bore the burning pain of the alcohol, desperately trying to survive. As Warren left the room, I dragged myself across the floor, leaving a trail of crimson.

I finally reached the door handle, only to discover he had locked it from the outside. I strained every muscle to make a sound, but my throat only produced hoarse rasps.

I pounded on the door in despair—once, twice, three times… My strength waning until I couldn’t lift my hand.

As my consciousness began to fade, I heard Magnus's voice outside the door:

"Sir, are you sure about this? What if something happens to her?"

"Shut up! One more word, and you're out!" Warren snapped impatiently.

"She has to suffer to learn."

Deprived of oxygen, my mind filled with a roaring white noise, and my vision faded to black.

Finally, I saw nothing at all.

"Alright, let Mazie out," Warren instructed Magnus curtly. "The key's in my study drawer." Magnus hesitated over the phone, his voice slightly shaky.

Warren wrapped his arm around Amber with a sense of regret in his voice. "To make it up to you, I’ve bought us a charming little cottage in the countryside. How about we go check it out?"

Amber's eyes sparkled, pulling Warren eagerly towards the door. "Really? I want a pink princess room and a big garden!"

Warren laughed and tweaked her nose, "Alright, whatever you want." He tightened his grip on Amber's hand, pouring all his warmth into this single act. Still, he couldn't shake off the image of Mazie; her face lingered in his mind.

The buzzing of his phone pulled him from his thoughts. Annoyed, he glanced at the screen—it was Magnus. "What's up?" he snapped.

"S-sir..." Magnus's voice quivered on the other end. "It's M-Mazie..."

"What about her now?" Warren's irritation flared. "Let her know I'm busy and can’t deal with her drama right now!"

"No, sir, it's not that. It’s just... I think she might be..." Magnus took a deep, shaky breath, summoning his courage. "It seems she might be dead..."

"Dead?" Warren's face went pale. "What the hell are you talking about?!"

He recalled the call from Magnus earlier that morning. Could it be... No, it couldn't be! Mazie had wanted to marry him for ages; she couldn't just be dead. She must be pulling some stunt to gain his sympathy!

"Sir, I swear I’m not lying..." Magnus's voice was strained, on the brink of tears. "Madam, she's... she's gone..."

"Dead is dead. She's always been one for playing fragile to get sympathy, and now you're in on her scheme to fool me?"

"But..."

"That's enough! If she wants to stay hidden, let her be. I don't want to hear another word about her!" Warren shouted, slamming the phone down in anger. That woman, trying to manipulate him with such tricks!

"Warren, is something wrong with Mazie?" Amber asked, concern etched on her face.

Warren patted her back gently, "It's nothing. After what she did to you, don’t waste your compassion on her."

"But... she is my sister..." Amber's voice trembled, laced with false tears, though I caught the faint smile playing at the corner of her lips.

Warren sighed, brushing his fingers through Amber's hair. "You're too kindhearted, always letting her walk all over you."

Kindhearted? Amber? I nearly laughed at the absurdity of the situation. Not long ago, Warren and I marked our third wedding anniversary. I had prepared a feast of his favorite dishes, eagerly awaiting his return. But instead of gifts or flowers, he brought Amber, my so-called sister.

Amber clung to Warren's arm, her tone sweet and playful, "You don't mind me being here, do you, sis?"

Their closeness was like a stab to the heart. Warren frowned, dismissive. "Why bother what she thinks? Amber can come over whenever she likes. It's not your concern."

Stifling my anger, I reminded him coldly, "It's our anniversary today."

"So what?" Warren sneered, guiding Amber to the dining table. "If you're unhappy, leave. No one's making you stay."

My heart felt like it was being pierced by needles. Years of love couldn’t earn even a glimpse of his affection. Amber took a few bites, suddenly paling and clutching her mouth, gagging.

Warren rushed to her, panicking, "What's wrong?"

Amber weakly pointed at the dishes, her voice trembling, "I'm allergic to nuts. Sis, did you put almond paste in the food?"

"I didn’t!" This was Amber's theatrics again! I hadn’t used almond paste!

"How could you do this to me, sister? I know you dislike me, but you can't just try to poison me..." Amber cried.

Warren roared, "Mazie, are you out of your mind?!"

He picked Amber up and stormed out like a whirlwind.