My husband said he was “on a business trip,” but when I went to the hospital to visit my sick friend, I suddenly heard his voice behind the door… and what I heard chilled me to the bone.

With the fruit basket in my hand, I walked through aisles that smelled of antiseptic, although everything looked immaculate and expensive. My footsteps echoed on the marble.

My heart wasn’t afraid, but anxious.

The elevator rang on the third floor. I found room 305 at the end of a quiet, somewhat secluded hallway. As I approached, I noticed the door wasn’t completely closed, just ajar.

I raised my hand to call… and I froze.

A laugh came from inside.

And a male voice—warm, playful, painfully familiar—froze me to the bone.

“Open your mouth, darling. Here comes the little airplane…”

My stomach sank. That voice had kissed my forehead that very morning. That voice had promised me Valencia.

No. It wasn’t possible.

Trembling, I approached the crack in the door and held my breath as I peered inside.