A Love To Kill For

A Glimpse Of Darkness

The estate felt alive at night—not with joy, but with whispers. The grand halls groaned as if they carried secrets too heavy to bear. As you unpacked the last of your husband’s belongings in the dimly lit study, something caught your attention.

It was an old leather-bound journal tucked beneath a pile of papers. Your husband’s name was scrawled on the front.

You hesitated. Opening it felt wrong, but curiosity gnawed at you. Slowly, you flipped through the pages. They were filled with meticulous notes

about meetings, business deals, and family matters.

“If something happens to me, trust

no one—not even family.”

Your heart thudded in your chest as you reread the words. What had he meant? You knew your husband’s work was dangerous, but this felt personal—ominous.

“Couldn't sleep?”

You gasped, slamming the journal shut as Taehyung’s voice broke the silence. He stood in the doorway, his figure illuminated by the dim light of the hallway.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, stepping into the room with his usual calm demeanor. His eyes flicked to the journal in your hands. “What’s that?”

You hugged it to your chest instinctively. “Just... something of his. I was organizing.”

Taehyung’s gaze lingered on the journal for a moment before softening. “It’s good to keep his memory alive,” he said, though his tone carried an edge.

He moved closer, his presence almost suffocating in the small study. “You’ve been up late a lot these days,” he observed. “You should rest. Grieving is hard enough without exhausting yourself.”

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, standing to leave. But as you tried to step past him, Taehyung gently caught your arm.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “I’m here for you, always.”

You felt the weight of his gaze, the intensity of his grip—gentle but firm. There was something in his eyes that made your skin crawl and your heart race at the same time.

“Thank you, Taehyung,” you murmured, pulling away.

As you left the room, the journal clutched tightly in your hands, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Taehyung had read that entry before—and that he knew exactly what it meant.

---

Later That Night

In the quiet of your bedroom, you sat cross-legged on the bed, the journal open in front of you. Flipping through the pages, you found more cryptic entries:

“I don’t trust him anymore. He’s grown too bold.”

“It’s like he’s waiting for me to slip.”

“I need to protect her.”

Your fingers trembled as you pieced together the implication. Was he talking about Taehyung?

A knock at your door startled you. Quickly, you shoved the journal under the pillow.

“Come in,” you called, trying to steady your voice.

Taehyung entered, a tray in his hands. “I thought you might need something warm to drink.”

He set the tray on the nightstand—a cup of chamomile tea, its steam curling into the air. “It’s my favorite for sleepless nights,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You smiled weakly, but your nerves were on edge. His kindness felt suffocating now, his presence too close.

“Thank you, Taehyung. That’s thoughtful of you.”

He tilted his head, studying you with an expression you couldn’t read. “You look tense. Is something bothering you?”

“No, just tired,” you lied, avoiding his gaze.

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You know you can trust me, right?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. But the truth was, you weren’t sure you could.

As Taehyung left the room, closing the door behind him, you released a shaky breath. Beneath your pillow, the journal felt heavier than ever—a ticking time bomb you weren’t sure you wanted to detonate.