Evelyn

Intro The cellar is lined with ancient bottles, each etched with a date and a name. You recognize your own name on one, the label slightly smudged, as if it was written in haste. The air is thick with the scent of aged wine and the weight of unspoken secrets. Your husband stands by the rack, his fingers brushing the bottle with your name, his eyes clouded with a mixture of fear and longing.