How I Brought The Stranger Into My House

[JEANNE’S POV - Flashback]

My wedding anniversary used to be the most precious day of the year. I celebrated it with joy—but that only happened twice. After losing my baby, it was never the same.

Three years ago, I found out I was pregnant. Everyone was overjoyed—my family, Edgar’s family. A baby was expected soon after our wedding.

Then, the attack happened. At the hospital where I worked, chaos flooded the emergency room. I was tending to patients when one of them suddenly pulled out a gun. He shot me in the stomach—as if he knew I was pregnant. I barely survived, but my baby didn’t. The doctors told me I would never conceive again.

Everything changed after that. Edgar’s family turned cold. Then, my parents died on a mission trip. And Edgar… he changed too. Withdrawn. Silent. Distant. He buried himself in work, climbing the ranks to captain in the police force, while I was left alone in the grand house he insisted I stay in. He told me to quit my job, yet he was never home.

Tonight, I prepared a small celebration—a romantic dinner, carefully chosen words I hoped would bring us closer again. I called him, made sure he would be home. But midnight came, and he still hadn’t returned. My carefully planned evening had already crumbled when I heard the door open.

"Edgar!" I greeted him with a smile, even though the day had already changed. "I've prepared dinner. Can we sit together and eat?"

He barely glanced at me, striding past toward his room.

"I have to go," he said briskly, already changing his clothes and grabbing his work files.

"Where?"

"Hellena’s promotion party. We're going to celebrate, then continue our discussion—"

"A party? At midnight? What is this, Halloween?" My voice was sharper than I intended. "You say you're too busy for anything, but you have time for this?"

His cold gaze met mine. "What are you trying to say, Jeanne? You know how demanding my job is, so why start whining now?"

"I'm not whining, Edgar. I'm just fed up. You prioritize Hellena under the excuse that she’s your coworker, but don’t you think you’re giving her too much attention? Meanwhile, you keep me locked up in this house, doing nothing. Have you ever even asked if this is what I want?"

Edgar sighed and stepped closer. "What do you want? A gift bag? A car? Shoes? Just tell me what you want for our anniversary—and as an apology for not being here."

Then, he left. As if expensive gifts could fill the emptiness I felt. As if they could make up for three years of loneliness. I had almost gotten used to suppressing my frustration, forcing myself not to lose my mind over it.

My chest tightened, my mood shattered. All I wanted was to cry. Edgar had missed our anniversary again, choosing work over me—again. And the worst part? I had planned to surprise him tonight with news that should have changed everything.

After years of heartbreak, after being told I could never conceive again, I had miraculously fallen pregnant. This was my last hope of saving our marriage. And once again, Edgar wasn’t here.

Crying wouldn’t change anything. So I left.

After the attack three years ago, Edgar had turned our home into a fortress—four armed guards at the front, two at the back. I wasn’t allowed to go out alone without his permission. If I wanted to escape, even for a moment, I had to use the secret passage only I knew about.

Stepping outside gave me a breath of relief, though it didn’t erase my pain. I walked to my favorite park, the one place I could cry in peace. Normally, I could hear the distant hum of traffic, chatter from nearby shops and bars. But tonight was eerily silent—so silent I could hear breathing close by.

I tensed, my instincts on high alert. Was someone following me? Was I about to be attacked like three years ago?

I turned sharply. Nothing but empty streets and dark alleys. But then—a weak cough. Ragged breathing. Someone was struggling nearby.

Cautiously, I followed the sound, my steps leading into a shadowy alleyway. And then, I saw him.

"Oh my god, are you okay?"

The man was slumped against the wall, his body limp, the scent of fresh blood thick in the air. It was too dark to see his injuries, but he was still breathing—still conscious.

My first instinct was to call an ambulance. But then I hesitated. If Edgar found out I had snuck out and ended up in this situation, he would lose his mind. He would tighten my leash even more. I would lose the last bit of freedom I had left.

"Sir, can you stand?" I asked. No response. "I'm a doctor. I can help you. But I need you to move."

He didn’t speak, but after a long pause, he shifted slightly. That was enough for me.

It was reckless. Stupid. Bringing a wounded stranger into my home without alerting the guards. But I had no choice. Besides, Edgar kept enough weapons around—I could handle myself.

Dragging him through the secret passage was a struggle. He was heavier than he looked, and by the time we reached the kitchen, I lost my balance, collapsing with him onto the floor.

"Are you okay?" No response. "Can you hear me?"

I checked his pulse. Weak. His breathing was shallow. My heart pounded—this was my first emergency patient in three years. But I couldn’t afford to hesitate.

I unbuttoned his bloodstained white shirt and froze.

Bruises covered his chest. My mind raced, recognizing the signs instantly.

"Pneumothorax?"

A collapsed lung. He was running out of time.

I pushed through my panic, grabbing what I needed from the kitchen—a sharp knife, antiseptic, plastic wrap…

Then, with steady hands, I pressed the blade to his chest and made the incision.