Betrayal Behind Closed Doors

My name was Nina Davis, and I was thirty years old. Among my peers, I was always the one others envied. I lived in an upscale residence in New York with a young, handsome, and considerate husband who loved me dearly. His name was Aidan Davis, and he was widely known as a model husband. He used to be a renowned senior stylist. I used to run a medical equipment company. We raked in a hefty income every year. Soon after marrying Aidan, we had three adorable children. Since I had to manage my career while taking care of the kids, Aidan knew how challenging it was. So, he quit his job to help manage my company. Under his leadership, the company flourished. Thus, I decided to become a full-time housewife, enjoying life, supporting my husband, and raising our children. To everyone else, I was living the dream. But then my health started going downhill. I was constantly tired, my hair was falling out, and I lost a lot of weight. My memory was shot, and I felt like I was in a daze all the time. Aidan said I had severe anxiety and took me to the best doctors. They prescribed a bunch of medications, which our maid, Cathy Quinn, made sure I took. I never expected this to be the start of my nightmare. One day, I woke up with a sharp pain in my head and accidentally knocked over the liquid medication Cathy had brought me. Our greedy cat, Sherlock, took advantage of my drowsiness and licked up the spilled liquid. By the time I noticed, Sherlock had already jumped onto the windowsill, licking his paws leisurely. When Cathy came to collect the bowl, I didn't mention the incident, not wanting to trouble her for another dose. Honestly, I was fed up with the medication. It did nothing for me. If it weren't for Aidan's diligent care and insistence—he would watch me take it—I would have thrown it away. Ever since I fell ill, Cathy had taken on all the household chores, working tirelessly without complaints. Sometimes, I felt guilty for burdening her so much. After a brief chat, Cathy took the empty bowl and left. I glanced at my pillow, once again seeing a layer of fallen hair. It was alarming. Sighing, I gathered the strands, rolling them into a ball and tucking them into my pocket. Suddenly, I heard a dull thud coming from behind and almost jumped in fear. Holding my chest, I cautiously turned to the other side of the bed and saw Sherlock. He had been enjoying the view outside, but now, he was lying on the floor motionlessly. This creepy scene suddenly gave me a bad feeling. "Sherlock!" I called, but he didn't move. A chill ran down my spine, making my hair stand on end. This wasn't typical of him, who had always been responsive. Plus, they said cats had nine lives and exceptional balance. How could it have fallen from the windowsill and ended up like this? Was he... dead? My heart pounded as I leaned closer tremblingly, noticing his slow yet steady breathing. He wasn't dead, just asleep. But it seemed that... Suddenly, a horrifying thought flashed through my mind! I instinctively jumped out of bed, ignoring everything else, and picked up Sherlock. He was limp, deeply asleep, and completely defenseless. I couldn't help but wonder if I looked like this when I slept every day. Could it be that... I shivered at the thought, feeling like I was in an ice cave, too frozen and stiff to think further. Before I could delve deeper, I heard familiar footsteps outside. Aidan must be back... Instinctively, I climbed back into bed, hiding Sherlock's under the covers and pretending to sleep. The doorknob clicked, and my heart pounded rapidly. I even felt a gaze sweep over me, causing a sharp pain in my back. Meanwhile, my hands trembled uncontrollably under the blanket. But Aidan didn't enter as expected. Instead, he retreated. Just as the door was about to close, I heard Aidan's cold voice. "Did she take the medicine?" His other words were cut off by the closing door. The next second, I snapped my eyes open, overwhelmed by unprecedented fear that filled my soul. I couldn't tell if I was in the midst of a nightmare. This scene made me think of the medication. I've kept Sherlock for years, and it had never been like this. The only difference was that it had drunk my medication. This thought was truly terrifying. Could someone really be trying to harm me?