Concealed Power

Prologue

With a few words and a few stolen kisses, soon one thing led to another and just like that, the world was plunged into war.

Sometimes, life is so miserable that the last thing you can hope for is an iconic death. Some may pass away with a hefty inheritance, turning their demise into a twisted game. Others might fall heroically, fighting for their country or loved ones. But as the woman walked along the dimly lit sidewalk, she couldn't help but dwell on how pathetic her death might be. Not a single passerby gave her a second glance or wondered if something was wrong—why would they? And even if they knew, why would they care?

She snorted at the thought, knowing her tragedy would be just another among many, quickly overlooked and forgotten. With a sigh, she approached a modest house—not large by any means, but a home nonetheless. She stood her ground, aware that no matter how much she wished to avoid what was coming, she couldn't. She never would.

Inside that house lay a secret so damning that if anyone found out, it would guarantee her a swift journey to her deathbed. It had been a cold night when she stumbled into a bar, seeking refuge. As she sat down, a man approached and offered her a drink. Flattered, she looked up into his warm brown eyes, and as they talked, she found herself drawn to him. Most of her life had been a series of betrayals, leaving her battered and bruised by those who once promised to love her. They were the reason she was in that bar, hiding the marks on her neck beneath her hair and thankful that her shirt was able to cover the bruise that lined her back. But as the night wore on, she couldn't help but wonder, "Is this what peace feels like?"

As their conversation deepened, the man suddenly asked, "Want to get out of here?" She couldn't resist the pull between them. He took her to his place, where they talked for hours. Eventually, she kissed him, and one thing led to another. She was astonished by his tenderness in the dark, thankful for the shadows that hid her bruises. It was something she had never known. When morning came, dread filled her heart, knowing it was all over. But the man surprised her with breakfast, and as they sat together, she learned he was a baker—a kind and generous soul, unlike anyone she'd ever met. They met again a week later for coffee, and soon these meetings became more frequent. Weeks turned into months, then a year, and now she stood in front of his house, regret and anxiety gnawing at her.

She entered with the spare key he had given her. The home was beautiful, always inviting and warm. The walls were painted a soft moss green and ivory, and the wooden floors were complemented by furniture in various shades of green and ivory as well. The kitchen, a cozy cream with wooden cupboards, was currently a mess of baking ingredients. In the midst of it all was the man, the cause of the chaos. When he looked up and saw her, a wide grin spread across his face. He set down the tray of cookies he was holding and rushed to embrace her. "I missed you so much," he said. "I missed you too," she replied, her heart warmed by the gesture, though the anxiety still loomed, whispering all her faults and fears.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, noticing the troubled look on her face. "Did something happen?"

"We need to talk," she responded, her voice heavy with regret and sorrow.