Swamp Murder

Swamp Murder. 26

Wang's Pov.

It's been a month since Zhan and I first made love, and we haven't been able to stop since. Every day, we find our way back to each other, drawn by something deeper than desire, something undeniable, something consuming.

Today, I'm out buying flowers for him, carefully picking the freshest ones, the kind that will make him smile when he sees them. A bouquet of white lilies and soft pink roses, elegant yet gentle, just like him. I also search for the perfect gift, something thoughtful, something that will remind him how much he means to me.

He has the day off, and I want to make it special. Not for any reason other than love—because he makes me happy, and I want to return even a fraction of that joy to him.

I had texted Zhan earlier, telling him I wasn't feeling too well before I left the house. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the full truth either. Now, as I pull into the driveway, I spot him stepping out of a cab, his expression tight with concern. Perfect timing.

By the time he walks through the door, I'm already in the kitchen, letting the warmth from the gas chase away the lingering chill.

"I'm here," I call out, turning just as he steps in, a small pharmacy bag clutched in his hand.

His eyes sweep over me, checking, assessing. "What are you doing in the kitchen?" he asks, his voice softer than his usual tone.

"The kitchen is warmer," I reply, rubbing my hands together. "It's freezing."

Without thinking, I close the space between us, wrapping my arms around him. His familiar scent, clean, and comforting, undeniably fills my senses as I press into him. "I need warmth," I murmur.

He exhales, his arms tightening around me, his lips brushing mine in a light but lingering kiss.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his voice lower now, laced with worry. "What happened? I just left you a few hours ago."

I smile, feeling the tension ease from my body just from being in his arms. "I'm okay, love," I say, my voice tinged with laughter. "I just wanted you here with me."

His breath hitches for a second, and then he chuckles, pressing another kiss to my forehead. "You're unbelievable," he mutters, but the warmth in his voice gives him away.

And just like that, I know he understands.

"I fall for this lie all the time," Zhan says, pulling away from our hug, though the warmth of his touch still lingers.

"It's not a lie," I counter, flashing him a small smile. "I do feel better when you're with me."

He shakes his head, amused, but I can see the way his lips twitch, fighting back a smile of his own.

"What are you making?" he asks.

"Rice and beef sauce," I reply, turning back to the stove.

"Let me finish the cooking," he offers, already reaching for the spoon.

I don't argue. Instead, I slip away to the living room, grabbing the flowers and the gift I had carefully picked out for him. Today is supposed to be special, and I can't wait to see the look on his face.

Just as I step back into the kitchen, I hear the front door swing open, followed by a deep, familiar voice.

"Who's home?"

I freeze. My dad.

"Dad?" I whisper, caught off guard by his unexpected arrival. He didn't mention visiting.