My Yandere wife won't leave me alone!!~

Memory

Clutching onto the thick bedsheets, Adrian turned over on the cozy bed. The cold atmosphere was prominent even through 4 layers of clothing over his body

The constant chirping of birds, usually a welcoming sound, started to get on my nerves. I rolled over, searching for Anita next to me on the bed.

Empty.

I instantly shot back up and my eyes searched the room for her.

Anita wasn't curled up beside me. Instead, she stood at the opposite end of the room near a window, bathed in the morning light with her back turned to me. In her hands, glinting ominously, was a gun.

There stood Anita, sporting a white tank top, her skin glowing off the sun, and her brown hair in a kempt ponytail floating behind her, and camouflage pants was meticulously cleaning it while humming a gentle tune to herself. The oiled cloth moved expertly over the barrel, her movements practiced and fluid.

"Anita?! What are you doing?", I call out to her in a nervous voice.

Anita turned, catching my wide-eyed stare. A ghost of a smile played on her lips. "Morning, sleepyhead. Didn't expect to find you awake so soon."

"What... no, wait, why do you have a gun?", my voice came out rougher than I intended.

Anita's smile faltered slightly. "Just cleaning, that's all. This place is deserted, remember? It's good to be prepared."

But her explanation didn't sit right. The way she handled the gun, the ease and familiarity in her movements, spoke of more than just casual preparedness. There's something she isn't telling me.

Sensing unease, Anita sighed and sat down beside me on the bed.

"Hey," she said gently, taking my hand, "Relax. It's okay."

She pointed to another photo on the nightstand right beside our bed. A younger Anita, barely a teenager, beamed beside her Dad with kind eyes and a weathered face, now with no wrinkles in sight, both holding rifles.

"He taught me everything about hunting," Anita continued, her voice soft. "These woods are teeming with deer, squirrels, even the occasional bears. We used to spend hours tracking, learning about the animals, appreciating mother nature."

I couldn't help but be fascinated, a stark contrast to my upbringing in my hometown. I finally understood the hidden meaning behind her attire, the comfortable silence in the woods, and the quiet confidence she exuded when cleaning her gun. Wait, does this mean-

As if reading my mind, Anita stood up and walked towards a hidden door in the corner of the room. "Want to see something nice?"

-

The door creaked open, revealing a hidden room lined with rifles and shotguns, each meticulously cleaned and displayed. An old gun rack held antique pistols, and a glass case housed hunting trophies: mounted antlers, and a stuffed fox.

I was awestruck as I carefully treaded inside. Each item whispered stories of adventures I couldn't even imagine. Anita picked up a sleek hunting rifle, its stock worn smooth from years of use.

"This was my dad's favorite," she said, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. "He called it his very own 'musket'. Taught me how to shoot with this very gun."

He watched as she expertly shouldered the rifle, her form perfect, a natural extension of herself. In that moment, he saw a side of Anita he never knew existed, a fierce independence, a connection to something primal and powerful. Her face turned serious as she held the weapon in her hand and nonchalantly aimed it outside the window.