• Uncategorized

I froze. Shock and disgust washed over me at the same time. Goosebumps were scaling out on my body like I had been dipped in ice water.
“Come here, girl!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “Who are you? How did you know I’m married? How did you know I don’t have children?”

She didn’t flinch. She just smiled a creepy, knowing smile. “The key was meant for you, Gracie. I’ve been waiting for you all this while.”
“God forbid!” I screamed, stepping back.

“Please, I don’t know you. My husband is not a ritualist! He is a good man! I was even pitying you before, not knowing you’re just a stubborn mad girl!”

“You better collect the key and let me tell you what to do!” the girl barked, her voice sounding much older than her body.

“I’m not collecting your key!” I snapped. “Wherever you picked that dirty thing up, go and return it. Stop harassing people. I’m sure this is what you do to everyone who passes by!”

I turned my back on her and rushed into the hotel; I didn’t look back. I quickly booked a room, took the elevator up, and locked myself inside.

But that night, sleep was a stranger. I lay on the large hotel bed, crying and thinking….

“Who’s this strange young mad girl, and where did she get that key from?” I said to myself.

I was sitting on the edge of the hotel bed, my hands shaking. I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her dirty face, and that heavy, rusted key. Her voice kept ringing in my head: “It’s the key your husband used to lock all your unborn children.”

The next morning, I drove back home in silence. The sun was bright.

As I pulled into the driveway of our massive home, Christopher ran out to meet me. He looked so handsome in his white linen shirt, his face glowing with a smile.

“Welcome home, my queen!” he said, pulling me into a warm hug. “How was the seminar? Did you impress the international partners?”
“It was fine, Chris,” I managed to say, forcing a smile. “Just a bit exhausting.”

“You look pale, Gracie. Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his eyes filled with worry. He touched my cheek gently. “Maybe we should see the doctor again? Just for a check-up?”
I pulled away slightly. “No! No more doctors, Chris. I just need to rest.”

I didn’t tell him about the girl. How could I? How could I tell my husband that a stranger on the street called him a rituaIist who locked my womb? It sounded like a crazy story from a movie.

For the next two weeks, I tried to be a good wife, but the seed of doubt had been planted. I started having flashbacks of our early years. I remembered the night after our wedding, six years ago. We were so happy.

“Gracie,” Christopher had whispered that night, “I will give you everything. I will protect you from the world. You don’t need anyone else but me.”

At that time, I thought it was romantic. Now, I wondered… did “protecting me” mean keeping me all to himself?

Two weeks later, Christopher traveled out of town for a business meeting. He was going to be away for three days.

That evening, I came back from work feeling restless. To keep my mind busy, I decided to do some deep cleaning. Our house is a very big mansion with many rooms we don’t even use.