The word "Happiness" was red. The curtains were red, the carpet was red, and the bedding was red. The whole room seemed to pulse with celebration, every detail a bold statement of joy. Emma's wide, bright eyes sparkled with the same color, a reflection of the vibrant atmosphere around her.
She sat shyly at the head of the bed, holding a soft, red bolster in her hands, twisting it nervously. Today was her wedding day, the day she had been waiting for with so much hope and excitement. She was now married to Mateo, the man she had dreamed of. Her heart brimmed with sweetness and anticipation, emotions swirling inside her. Everything was perfect, just as she’d imagined.
Mateo had just stepped out to see the last of the guests off, but he would return soon. She smiled, thinking about what was to come, the future they would build together. But her thoughts shifted, and a small, unshakable nervousness crept in. She knew what the next few hours would bring—what was expected of them as husband and wife—and that made her both anxious and excited. She squeezed the bolster tighter, trying to calm herself.
Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway, interrupting her thoughts. The door to the room burst open, and Mateo rushed in. His face was flushed, but it wasn’t the look of joy she expected to see.
"Mateo?" Emma's voice was small and uncertain. She looked up at him with a shy smile, but his eyes...his eyes were filled with fury.
"Emma," he barked, his voice thick with accusation. "Tell me the truth. Have you done something behind my back?"
Her heart jumped. "What? No, of course not!"
"No?" Mateo's hand flew into his pocket and yanked out a small photo, throwing it at her. "Then what is this?"
Confused, Emma grabbed the photo from the bed and looked down at it. Her mind froze, as if the world had suddenly stopped spinning.
In the photo, she was naked, lying on a bed, a man above her.
"This… this can’t be..." Her voice was barely audible. It was a nightmare, a bad dream she couldn’t wake from. But it wasn’t a dream. It was right there, staring at her, printed on glossy paper.
Her heart raced as the memory of a recurring dream flashed in her mind—an unnerving dream she’d had for weeks, where she’d been with someone, a stranger. She had dismissed it as nothing more than her imagination, but now, the same image was in front of her, and it felt disturbingly real. Could it have actually happened? And if it did, why couldn’t she remember?
Mateo's face darkened with rage, his chest rising and falling heavily as he glared at her with disgust. His eyes, red with anger, pierced into her, unforgiving.
"You’re not going to say anything? You really are guilty, aren’t you?"
"Mateo, I don’t—" she stammered, reaching for the right words, but they wouldn’t come.
"I thought I was marrying a pure woman. But it turns out you’re nothing but—" He stopped, unable or unwilling to finish his sentence, his face twisted in anger. He shook his head and spat the words, "I won’t marry someone like you. A filthy woman. Get out."
The harshness in his voice sliced through her like a blade. Without another word, Mateo turned and stormed out of the room, leaving Emma in stunned silence. Her body moved before her mind could catch up, and she stumbled after him, her legs barely holding her up.
Downstairs, the living room was filled with people, relatives and guests still lingering. They turned to look as Emma entered the room, all eyes on her. Mrs. Scarlett, her mother, rushed over with a desperate look in her eyes.
"Emma, tell me it’s not true! Tell me someone’s framed you!" she pleaded.
Before Emma could respond, Elena, the eldest daughter of the Campbell family, let out a snide laugh.
"Framed? Are you serious? You’ve seen the picture, haven’t you?"
Mrs. Scarlett turned, determined to defend her daughter. "My Emma would never do such a thing! This has to be some kind of setup!"
Mateo’s mother, Mrs. Campbell, stood by the fireplace, her face pale with disappointment. She shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Emma, how could you? I trusted you. I thought you were a good girl. You’ve broken my heart."
"In-law, please, there must be a mistake!" Mrs. Scarlett turned to the Campbells, still trying to defend her daughter. "Emma would never do something like this. You have to believe her!"
"Enough!" The deep voice of Gerald, Emma’s father, thundered through the room. He had remained silent for a long time, but now he couldn’t hold back. His face was red with anger and embarrassment.
"This is disgraceful. I can’t even look at you right now. You’ve brought shame on this family. I don’t care where you go, but by tomorrow morning, I want you out of this house!"
Mrs. Scarlett’s face fell, and she clutched her chest, gasping.
"Gerald, please, don’t send her away! We have to give her a chance to explain!"
But Gerald was furious.
"This is your fault! You raised her to be like this, didn’t you? I’m done. I’m done with this."
He turned and stormed toward the door.
In his rush, he shoved Mrs. Scarlett aside, and she lost her balance, crashing to the floor. Emma's breath caught in her throat as she watched her mother hit the ground. For a moment, everything went silent.
Then the blood. There was blood on her mother’s forehead.
"Mom!" Emma screamed, rushing to her side. She knelt beside Mrs. Scarlett, shaking her gently. "Mom, please, wake up! Don’t do this to me!"
Hearing the panic in Emma’s voice, Gerald stopped in his tracks. He turned to see his wife lying motionless on the floor, blood trickling from her head. His eyes widened, and he hurried back toward her, cradling her limp body.
"Honey, no, please, someone call 911!"
