The Nanny’s Obsession: A Wife’s Murder

The lipstick on his shirt wasn’t mine. I stood in the hallway, holding my son’s school bag, staring at the faint red mark on Raiven’s white collar. He placed his briefcase on the table like nothing was wrong. “Long day,” he muttered, loosening his tie. I wanted to ask, but my son’s laughter came from the living room, light and happy. I couldn’t shatter that sound with my doubts. So I forced my lips into a smile and said nothing. Raiven walked into the kitchen and poured himself a drink. He didn’t even notice me still standing there or he didn’t care. The doorbell rang.I opened it to find Lyraen, the new nanny, standing there with a bright smile. She was younger than I expected, golden hair falling over her shoulders, her eyes too curious for comfort. “Good evening, Mrs. Dravik,” she said sweetly. “Come in,” I answered. But her gaze slid past me, landing on my husband. Her smile grew softer and warmer, like it was meant only for him.Raiven looked up. For a brief second, his eyes met hers, quick, subtle enough to make me doubt everything. I clenched my hands. “Dinner’s ready,” I said, louder than I needed to. My son came running, throwing his small arms around Raiven. He laughed and lifted him high, his voice suddenly warm. I watched him, wondering how the same man could look so perfect with his child and still come home wearing another woman’s mark. Lyraen set her bag down, watching them closely. Her smile never faded. I offered to show her my son's room and hers then we returned. At the table, I tried to focus on my son’s stories from school. He spoke with excitement, waving his hands as he explained. I nodded, laughed at the right parts but my eyes kept drifting to Raiven. He ate quickly, his phone buzzing twice beside his plate. He didn’t check it. Not in front of me. “Was work busy?” I asked. “Always,” he replied shortly. After dinner, Lyraen took my son upstairs to prepare him for bed. I began clearing the plates. Raiven leaned against the counter, scrolling through his phone now that she was gone. His face softened at whatever he was reading. “Who’s that?” I asked quietly. “No one important.” He locked the screen too fast. I swallowed hard. “Then why hide it?” He raised an eyebrow, as if daring me to push further. “You’re imagining things, Serenya. Don’t start.” My hands shook as I carried the plates to the sink. Imagining things? That’s what he always said. Later that night, I went upstairs to kiss my son goodnight. Lyraen had tucked him in, sitting on the edge of the bed with a book in her hands. She looked up at me, her smile still sweet but her eyes lingered too long on mine. “I’ll finish reading to him tomorrow,” she whispered, slipping past me. I sat beside my son, smoothing his hair as he drifted to sleep.When I left his room, the hallway was quiet.I reached the top of the stairs, about to head down, when I heard voices from the kitchen,low and careful. Raiven’s voice and Lyraen’s voice. I crept down slowly, each step heavy with fear. “…she suspects,” Raiven whispered. Lyraen laughed softly. “Let her. She can’t do anything.” My breath caught.I pressed my hand to the wall, my body trembling. In my own home, with my husband, the truth was spilling out and I wasn’t supposed to hear it.I leaned closer, trying to catch every word, when the floor creaked under my foot. The voices stopped and then followed by silence.