"Catherine, could you wash a few more apples? Rosa loves them."

Josh's voice was calm, almost affectionate, as if he hadn't just treated me like a maid. I sneered inwardly. He really knew how to act like a king now that he was back, as if the past two years didn't happen—as if I hadn't managed all the expenses and raised our daughter alone while he stayed in the institution.

"Sure, right away!" I replied with detached cheerfulness, leaving Mia, my daughter, to play on her own. The little girl giggled and hopped on her feet, her small steps pattering across the wooden floor. She skipped over to Rosa in the living room.

"Auntie Rosa!" Mia squealed, throwing her arms around Rosa's neck.

Rosa beamed, catching her effortlessly and planting a kiss on her cheek. "Mia, I have a gift for you—a pretty hairpin. Do you like it?"

My daughter's eyes lit up as Rosa pulled out a delicate pink hairpin shaped like a butterfly. "I love it!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight.

Josh leaned over and affectionately patted Mia's head, his expression unusually tender. Watching them, I felt an odd pang in my chest. They looked like a perfect little family—so warm, so cozy.

I turned back to the sink, the cold water running over my hands as I washed the apples. The bright red skin of the fruit gleamed under the light, but the chill water pricked my skin, grounding me. When I finally finished, I turned around to find Rosa standing in the doorway of the kitchen, her face soft with sympathy.

"Catherine, thank you so much. You've been really patient with Josh," she said gently.

I blinked, as if thrown off by her words. "What do you mean?" I asked, my tone even.

Rosa stepped closer, folding her hands nervously. "Josh hasn't been his best self these past two years and... well, you've lost your family. I really feel for you."

I forced a faint smile and handed her the washed apples, careful not to show any reaction. "It's nothing. Thank you for helping me take care of Mia. It's a relief knowing I can focus on work without worrying."

Rosa returned my smile, her eyes softening. "She's like a daughter to me. I'll do whatever I can to help."

"Thank you. Mia's lucky to have someone like you around." I paused for a moment before adding, "It would be even better if she officially recognized you as her godmother."

Rosa's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? Are you serious?"

"Of course. Mia seems to really like you, too."

Just then, Josh appeared in the doorway, carrying Mia in his arms. "Go on, call her Mommy," he said with a grin, his tone playful but pointed.

Ignoring me completely, Mia wriggled out of his arms and ran straight to Rosa, hugging her tightly. "Mommy Rosa! I really like you! More than Mommy Catherine!"

Josh laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "You naughty girl, your mom's going to get jealous."

I waved it off with a generous smile. "It's fine. She's just a kid."

Rosa hugged Mia tightly, her eyes glistening with emotion. "Good girl, my good girl," she murmured, her voice trembling as tears welled up.

Josh reached up to wipe his eyes, pretending it didn't affect him as much as it did. I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter, watching the touching scene unfold before me. It was sweet, wasn't it? Heartwarming, even. But I knew better. This wouldn't last.

***

On New Year's Eve, the apartment buzzed with activity. The aroma of roasted meat filled the air, mingling with the scent of spices and freshly baked bread. I bustled around the kitchen, carefully arranging dishes on the dining table. Every plate gleamed, every glass sparkled under the warm glow of the lights above.

"Josh," I called out from the kitchen, stirring a pot of soup, "I heard Rosa's divorced now and living alone. She must be so lonely. Why not invite her to dinner with us? After all, she's Mia's godmother now—part of the family. Let's all celebrate together."

Josh's face lit up with joy. He hurried over and wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug, but I gently pushed him away. "I'm sweating a lot. Just go invite her," I said, smiling lightly.

Later, Rosa arrived, carrying a bottle of wine and a platter of bacon-wrapped scallops. She looked radiant, her cheeks flushed from the cold outside. I welcomed her warmly, pouring drinks for everyone as we gathered around the table for a lively dinner.

"Rosa, I really thank you on Josh's behalf!" I said, raising my glass in a toast. "You're the only one who doesn't hold his mental health issues against him. You're his truest friend."

Rosa's eyes softened as she gazed at Josh, emotion flickering in her expression. "We grew up together. Josh is a kind and brave person. He's not a bad man. Those things in the past were all misunderstandings. If you don't mind them, how could I?"

I smiled and poured her another glass of wine. The evening passed in a blur of laughter, clinking glasses and shared memories. After dinner, I cut up some fruit for everyone, then took Mia for a bath while Josh and Rosa cleaned up.

When I returned, I found Mia tugging on Josh's hand, her eyes bright with excitement. "Daddy, play with me!" she demanded, pulling him toward the living room.

Josh chuckled and followed her, Rosa close behind. They quickly settled into a game of hide-and-seek, their laughter echoing through the apartment. I leaned against the doorway, watching them with a faint smile.

Suddenly, Josh froze mid-step. His eyes widened unnaturally and thin, bloodshot veins crept across the whites of his eyes. His face contorted, twisting into something almost unrecognizable. Without warning, he grabbed Mia's arm tightly.

"Daddy, you're hurting me!" Mia cried, struggling against his grip.

Josh shoved her aside, his hand trembling as he reached for the fruit knife lying on the table.

"No!" Rosa's scream pierced the air, raw with terror.

A heavy thud echoed through the apartment, sharp and jarring. I rushed out from where I stood, heart pounding.

In the middle of the living room, Mia lay motionless on the floor, her tiny body sprawled in an unnatural angle. A fruit knife was embedded in her chest, its hilt glistening under the harsh light. Crimson blood pooled beneath her, its metallic tang filling the air.

My breath hitched in my throat. I froze, as if hadn't fully registered the sight before me.

Rosa stood nearby, rooted in place, her face pale as death. Her eyes widened in horror, hands clutching her mouth as if to stifle a scream. She didn't move, didn't even blink. Josh, standing over the body, panted heavily, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. Slowly, his ragged breathing steadied and the wild look in his eyes faded into terror, as though he had already processed what had happened.

A strangled cry escaped Rosa's lips. She clutched her head, hair falling wildly over her face, before collapsing beside Mia's lifeless form. Her fingers trembled as she reached out, but she dared not touch the knife lodged in the little girl's chest.

"No... no, no, no!" Rosa's voice cracked, shattering into hysterical sobs. She wrapped her arms around Mia's limp body, rocking back and forth, her tears falling freely onto the child's blood-streaked face.

I stumbled back, gripping the doorframe for support. My mind was blank, an odd numbness settling over me. Slowly, I fumbled for my phone, fingers clumsy as I dialed the emergency number. My voice, eerily steady, gave the necessary details: an accident, a child's death, a request for immediate police and medical assistance.

The rest blurred into a surreal haze. The police arrived. Officers in dark uniforms moved with mechanical efficiency, taking Josh away in handcuffs. I watched impassively as they led him out the door, his expression unreadable. The paramedics confirmed what we already knew—Mia was gone.

***

The funeral was a solemn affair. The gray sky above seemed fitting, heavy clouds casting a cold, muted light over the gathering. Rows of black-clad figures stood in silence, the wind tugging at their coats and scarves. I stood apart from the crowd, hands folded neatly in front of me, my face devoid of tears.

Rosa, on the other hand, was a mess. Her shoulders shook with uncontrollable sobs as she clung to the coffin, her grief raw and unrelenting. Those who didn't know would find it strange that she mourned more deeply than I, Mia's own mother.

Whispers rippled through the crowd, the low murmur of judgmental voices blending with the wind.

"What were you thinking? Everyone knows Josh is dangerous. Why did you let him back into your life?" my uncle spat, his voice thick with disgust.

"You brought this on yourself," another added coldly.

"Stop it," a woman whispered sharply. "Don't you think she's suffering enough already? It's her daughter and her husband—she's lost both."

But the accusations continued.

"She deserved it, being so blind to the truth," my aunt muttered, loud enough for me to hear.

I said nothing. The numbness persisted, an invisible barrier shielding me from their words. But Rosa's breakdown reached a fever pitch.

Suddenly, she staggered toward me, her eyes wild and brimming with fury. Before I could react, she grabbed my shoulders and shook me violently. "Give me back my daughter! Give her back!" she screamed, her voice shrilled with anguish.

I wrenched myself free, shoving her back. My voice was cold, controlled. "What nonsense are you spouting? She was my daughter!"

Rosa's sobs intensified, her entire frame trembling. "You let her call me mommy... and now she's dead! If I had known..." She broke into hysterical wails, her words barely coherent through her sobbing. "She was my daughter! I'm her real mother!"

Her outburst stunned the crowd into silence. All eyes turned toward her, disbelief mingling with confusion.

I stared at her, my expression icy. "I think you're losing your mind too. You should see a doctor." My voice was devoid of emotion, as if speaking to a stranger.

Several relatives rushed forward to restrain Rosa, pulling her back before she could lunge at me again. "That's enough! You should rest," one of them snapped.

But Rosa shoved them away, her breath ragged as she glared at me. "I'm telling the truth! Mia's my daughter!"

A cold silence descended over the group. Her words hung in the air, heavy and impossible to ignore.

"When you gave birth, I was in the same hospital, delivering a child," she continued, her voice breaking. "You gave birth to a son, but he stayed in the womb too long and suffocated. He was stillborn. The child you brought home was mine!"

The revelation hit others like a thunderclap though it was something I already knew. I staggered back, feigning shock, my legs giving way as I collapsed onto the cold ground. My hands trembled as I clutched my chest, forcing tears to well up in my eyes. "Why... why would you do that?" I whispered hoarsely.

Rosa's face contorted with hatred. "Because you would've been devastated without a child! Josh told me to give mine to you."

I stifled a frown. The damned bitch was still trying to paint herself as the innocent. But before I could speak, a loud voice cut through the tension.

"That's bullshit!"

Everyone turned toward the source of the voice. A man strode in, his expression dark with anger—Rosa's ex-husband.

"She cheated on me during our marriage and got pregnant! She was afraid I'd find out, so Josh took the baby and gave it to you to raise." His voice was steady, each word laced with bitterness.

Rosa's face turned deathly pale, her lips parting in shock, but no words came out.

Her ex-husband's voice grew sharper. "I was away on business most of the time. When I returned, I began to notice things. Rosa had an affair with Josh. When she got pregnant, I realized the dates didn't match. The child wasn't mine and that was why I divorced her."

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. "On the day you gave birth, Rosa also had a C-section. Your son was stillborn and Josh swapped him with Rosa's baby, pretending it was yours."

Murmurs of disbelief rippled through the crowd. Rosa swayed on her feet, unable to respond, her lie unraveling before everyone's eyes.

The truth was out. To complete my act, I buried my face in my hands, letting out soft sobs. My aunt, furious, stepped forward and slapped Rosa hard across the face. The sharp crack echoed through the cold air.

"You damned woman!" my aunt spat. "Seducing another woman's husband and letting her raise your child for free? You're absolutely vile!"

Several relatives stepped forward, encircling Rosa like a pack of wolves ready to tear her apart. Their faces twisted with outrage, voices rising in a cacophony of accusations.

"You have no right calling yourself a mother!" one woman spat, her eyes blazing with disdain. "Cheating on your husband and giving away your daughter? Do you even have a conscience?!"

"Yeah!" another relative chimed in, pointing an accusing finger at Rosa. "Catherine raised Mia on her own. She was both a mother and a father to her. It wasn't easy for her!"

The crowd's indignation surged like a tide, but Rosa remained unfazed, her wild eyes darting around, searching for a way out. Despite the verbal assault, she stood her ground, her voice shrill with defiance.

"She's my daughter! Catherine has nothing to do with her!" Rosa shouted, her words cutting through the clamor like a whip. Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and bolted, her movements frantic and unsteady, like a cornered animal fleeing from danger.

***

After the funeral, I found myself lying on the familiar beige sofa in my apartment. The faint scent of lavender from the nearby diffuser drifted through the air. My head throbbed faintly, but I ignored it. Slowly, I sat up, reaching for the wine bottle on the coffee table.

Pouring myself a glass, I swirled the deep red liquid around lazily before taking a slow sip. The warmth spread through me, not from sadness, but from a quiet, simmering joy.

***

Half a year passed in the blink of an eye. The seasons changed, but my routine remained the same. Each month, I visited Josh in the mental hospital. The pristine white walls of the facility always gave me an odd sense of calm. Josh had grown thinner, his once strong frame now frail, weighed down by guilt and regret.

Sitting across from him during my visits, I kept my voice gentle, reassuring. "You didn't mean to," I said softly, my eyes fixed on his trembling hands. "That wasn't you, Josh. Mia would forgive you. She wouldn't want to see you like this."

Josh's eyes welled with tears, his lip quivering as he struggled to hold back sobs. "I was so scared you'd abandon me," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I've taken so much from you. I killed your parents and now Mia too. I... I don't deserve you."

Reaching across the table, I wiped away his tears with the pad of my thumb, my touch tender. "Don't be silly," I whispered, offering a faint smile. "We're husband and wife. Marriage is about weathering the storm together."

Josh sniffled, nodding, his tears and snot blending into a pitiful mess on his face. He clung to my words like a lifeline, desperate for absolution.

"I've arranged for specialists to reassess your condition," I continued softly. "You'll be able to come home soon. But promise me, Josh, don't give up on yourself."

Josh nodded fervently, his eyes shining with gratitude. "Catherine... thank you," he choked out.

I smiled faintly once more, leaning back in my chair. The best part was yet to come.

***

Finally, after months of flawless behavior in the hospital, Josh was released. The day he returned home, the air felt thick with tension, as though the very walls of the apartment held their breath in anticipation. I prepared a simple dinner, trying to make the atmosphere feel warm and welcoming. But the peace didn't last.

When Rosa found out about Josh's release, she stormed into my apartment uninvited, her face flushed with anger. Her hair was disheveled and her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"Catherine, are you insane?!" she yelled, her voice sharp and trembling. "After all the people he's killed, you still dare to bring him back?"

I turned to face her, keeping my expression calm, almost puzzled. "Aren't you Josh's friend? His childhood sweetheart?" I asked softly. "Why would you say such things about him?"

Rosa's entire frame trembled with rage. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she pointed an accusatory finger at Josh, who stood silently behind me.

"I saw with my own eyes how he killed my daughter!" Rosa shouted, her voice breaking with emotion. "If that doesn't make him a lunatic, what does? You're lucky the knife hasn't turned on you yet! You have no idea the pain I'm enduring."

I lowered my head quietly, choosing not to argue with her. There was no point. Rosa's rage was like a storm—wild, uncontrollable and exhausting. And besides, she was right. When Josh killed my adoptive parents, I felt... nothing.

***

New Year's came and with it, a strange, hollow stillness. Because of Josh's history, no relatives came to visit us anymore. The absence of their presence didn't bother me; I didn't feel lonely. Josh was all I needed.

We shared a modest dinner before stepping outside to set off fireworks. The cold night air bit at my skin, but I barely noticed. Josh stood beside me, his eyes reflecting the bursts of color in the sky above.

Our neighbors kept their distance, watching us with wary eyes. Whispers carried on the wind, too soft to hear clearly but loud enough to sting.

"That couple is insane."

"Who knows when the husband will snap and kill someone again?"

"They've ruined the property values in this building. I'm so sick of them."

I ignored the gossip, focusing instead on Josh, but I noticed the slight twitch in his jaw. He was bothered by their words, even if he didn't say so.

Back inside, I prepared a small tray of sliced fruit and placed it on the table. Picking up a slice of apple, I offered it to Josh, holding it up to his mouth.

"Honey, have an apple," I said softly, my voice gentle and soothing.

Josh froze, his eyes locked on the knife I had left on the table. His fingers began to tremble involuntarily, a subtle but unmistakable sign.

I waved my hand in front of him, letting the sweet fragrance of the apple waft closer. "Honey, what's wrong?" I asked, my tone light, almost teasing.

Suddenly, something in Josh snapped. His breathing grew erratic and he sprang to his feet, shoving me aside with surprising force. Grabbing the knife from the table, he pointed it at me, his eyes burning red with fury.

"You bitch!" he snarled, his voice raw and primal, as though overtaken by a force he couldn't control.

I smiled with an unsettling excitement, stretching out my left arm toward him. My voice was calm but unnervingly eager. "Come on, right here! Cut here!"