THE VOW

THE DOCK*

Midnight.

Kevin was out cold.

Not asleep. _Out._ His mouth open, one arm hanging off the bed. I shook him hard. Nothing.

Same as last night. Same as after the dinner.

The food.

I put on my old black leggings and his oversized Morehouse hoodie. I took my phone, no flashlight. The last thing I needed was Eleanor seeing a light bouncing to the lake.

House One's dock was 40 feet from our back door. Wood, new, but the boards creaked too loud in the cold. The lake smelled like iron and mud.

There was no one on the dock now. Eleanor and her shovel were gone. But the mud told a story.

Fresh drag marks. From the yard to the edge. And at the end of the dock, the water was still cloudy, like something heavy had just been pushed in.

_CHECK LAKE._ That's what the housekeeper mouthed.

I knelt. The water was freezing in May. I shoved my hand under the dock, feeling along the wooden cross-beams.

My fingers hit plastic. Taped underneath.

Six black waterproof lockboxes. Labeled with a Sharpie, same handwriting as the dresses.

HOUSE ONE

HOUSE TWO

HOUSE THREE

HOUSE FOUR

HOUSE FIVE

HOUSE SIX

House One was mine.

I pried it off. The tape was new. Inside, a cheap burner phone and a stack of photos.

The photos were polaroids. All of women in white dresses standing on this exact dock.

First photo: A woman I didn't know. Back marked 2018 - HOUSE ONE - LENA - RETURNED

Second: 2019, another woman.

Third: 2020, another.

All House One. All size 6. All gone before us.

Until the last photo.

It was me.

Me, in the white dress Simone dropped off, standing on this dock. Taken tonight, from the bushes. I was looking at the lake. I didn't remember anyone taking it.

On the back, fresh ink:

_ZURI - 2024 - NOT YET RETURNED. SHE KNOWS._

My blood turned to ice.

The burner phone buzzed in my hand. I almost dropped it in the lake.

One new text message, from UNKNOWN:

_If you're reading this, you're the first House One wife to find the boxes in Year One. The others found them in Year Three. Too late. Don't trust your husband. Meet me at the laundry house behind House Four tomorrow 3am. Come alone. Burn this phone. - M_

M. Monique? Mrs.?

Footsteps on gravel behind me.

"Zuri?"

Kevin. Standing at the top of the dock in his shorts, rubbing his eyes. Not drugged anymore. Awake.

"What are you doing out here? It's midnight."

I shoved the photos into my hoodie. "Couldn't sleep."

He walked closer. He saw the lockbox in my hand. His face changed.

"Where did you get that?"

He didn't sound like my husband. He sounded like someone else.

From the lake, behind him, a light turned on in House Four. Monique's house. A bedroom light. And in the window, Monique was standing, staring straight at me, shaking her head NO, mouthing:

_DON'T GO BACK INSIDE WITH HIM._