In the Name of the Sacred Tree

The night sky was as dark as ink that could not be diluted by even water. After a month of training, Christine Taylor got into a cab with a heavy suitcase, and in high spirits, headed for a villa where she would live with her fiancé, Darren Wright.

She would marry her beloved in a week, and she would live a sweet life with him in the future days.

Thinking about the upcoming happiness, she was as excited as any other woman who was getting married for the first time.

The cab moved slowly along the highway. After about 10 minutes, Christine finally reached her destination.

She took out a key and opened the door lightly.

The crystal chandelier and incandescent lamps in the living room were all on; so was Darren's business computer on the table.

That meant he was at home.

"Darren, I'm back," said Christine, who had come back ahead of schedule, trying to give her fiancé a surprise.

She said that a few times, but no one answered her.

Was he not at home?

But the lights were on.

"Darren..."

Getting no response, she kept calling; her eyes were roaming for his figure.

"Is he working in the study?" She thought he might be burying himself in his work.

With the guess, she put down the suitcase and hurried to the study upstairs.

The one-month separation made her miss him very much.

"Darren..." The light in the study was also burning, but still, he was not there.

"Darren, where are you?" There was nobody in the living room, kitchen, or the study.

In confusion, she walked toward the bedroom.

That was the last place where he might be. She thought he was probably resting there.

Her step was so light and cautious as if she was walking on clouds.