Shar'ed lifted herself off the ground for a split second, felt dizzy, and collapsed again—this time, unconscious. Jimena stood back, staring at Shar'ed's lifeless body, unsure of what to do next. She hadn't meant to hurt the old woman; she just didn't like what she was saying. The shove had come from anger. It was an accident, Jimena told herself.
There was more blood than she expected. It pooled beneath Shar'ed's long blonde hair, staining it a muddy brown. That's not a pretty hair color on her, Jimena thought.
She lingered a moment longer, weighing her options. Leave was her first instinct. No one will know you were here. She glanced at the wooden-planked barn door—an easy exit. Then back at Shar'ed, still unmoving. Jimena hesitated. What if she tells someone? she wondered. She'd lie. Shar'ed hit her head. She wouldn't remember anything clearly. Jimena wasn't even there. That's what she'd tell everyone.
Without emotion, Jimena pivoted and turned away, grabbing the basket of eggs—the very reason she'd come to the barn in the first place. She left without looking back.
It was a short fifteen-minute walk from her in-laws' farm to her house, a routine she followed every few days to collect fresh eggs for herself and Rohan, her husband. Since their marriage, Jimena had felt entitled to everything the family owned. After all, Rohan practically supported the farm and his entire family. She deserved it all—even their very lives.
She strolled lazily along the beaten path, admiring the wildflowers that lined the way. These would look cute on the table, she mused, plucking daisies one by one. Just a small handful would do. She'd place them in a vase between her plate and Rohan's—something simple, nothing fancy.
She didn't need fancy. Her life was modest: a two-bedroom house, just as Rohan had promised when they were dating. The only detail he'd left out was that his parents lived on the same property. Jimena didn't mind that too much—they mostly kept to themselves. It was Rohan who visited them often, and that annoyed her. She should have been the center of his universe. Always. No exceptions.
Jimena took a deep breath. No need to get worked up over the in-laws. They'd be gone soon enough. She'd make sure of that.
When Jimena reached home, the house was empty. Rohan hadn't returned from work yet. He was a doctor at the local hospital—something she had verified while they were dating. There was no reason to settle for anything less. She had dated others who had other various forms of jobs and found it very... very... unsatisfying.
She wasn't expecting him just yet. There was still time to prepare dinner as a surprise and make sure she looked perfect. Tonight needed to be special—she wanted to make him happy.
Jimena wasn't much of a cook, but she had learned a few recipes during their short time together. Rohan was patient and kind when it came to her culinary efforts. Tonight's dinner was part of a larger plan—her quiet campaign to always have Rohan's full attention. Shar'ed's fall hadn't been part of it, but it worked in her favor.
After placing the daisies in a small vase on the table, she got to work. Chicken Alfredo with asparagus and a simple salad—easy enough. She added a bottle of white wine to complete the presentation.
While dinner cooked, she rushed to her room to change into a more form-fitting dress. Her slender frame was striking, and she knew it. Long, wavy brown hair, milky brown eyes, perfectly lush lips—she was the prettiest woman in the city, and she didn't mind reminding herself of it. She paused in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection, until the thought of burning dinner snapped her back to reality.
She dashed to the kitchen and sighed in relief—nothing was ruined. Just as she plated the food, Rohan walked through the door, placing his keys on the small table by the entrance, as he did every day. He was still as handsome as ever: sharp jawline, tousled dark hair, and those piercing blue eyes that made her weak.
"What's this?" he asked with a smile, eyeing the dinner.
He's happy, Jimena thought. Good. She struggled to read emotions, relying on cues—a raised voice for anger, a smile for joy, a touch for approval.
"I wanted to do something nice for you," she said.
Rohan stepped closer, wrapped his arm around her waist, and kissed her. It lasted longer than expected, stirring something deep inside her. When it ended, he looked down at her, still holding her close.
"We can skip dinner tonight, if you want," he whispered.
She had him right where she wanted him.
Patting his chest gently, she replied, "I think you'll like dinner tonight."
"Alright," he said, pulling out her chair like a gentleman. She watched him closely as he took his first bite. If he didn't like it, he'd cringe and stop. But he didn't. He took another bite. Then a third. The food was safe.
"How was your day?" he asked between bites.
"Pretty uneventful," she replied. "Yours?"
"Same," he said, continuing to eat.
Three bites and no complaints. She must have done something right.
"I do have some news," she said softly. "I'm pregnant."
He dropped his fork. "Pregnant?!"
His mouth hung open, stunned. Jimena couldn't read his expression well enough to know how to respond.
"Yes, pregnant," she confirmed, unsure if he was asking for clarity or reacting. "I know we've only been married a short time, and I'm shocked too, but—"
He reached for her hand, smiling wide.
"I am the happiest man alive," he said, standing up and pulling her into a tight embrace. He kissed her neck playfully. "I love you more now than ever."
She hated when he said things like that—she never knew how to respond. "I love you too," she said, hoping it was the right answer.
He spun her around the living room, making her giggle. She had made him happy.
Then came a soft knock at the door. From the gentleness of it, she knew it was his sister, Shar'ee—named closely after their mother. Jimena didn't want Rohan to answer. She wanted his full attention, uninterrupted. But he pulled away, still smiling.
He squeezed her hand and opened the door. Shar'ee stood there, red-eyed and crying.
"Mom died," she said through sobs.
"She died?!" Jimena exclaimed, a little too enthusiastically. Both Rohan and Shar'ee turned to look at her. She quickly recovered. "How?" she asked, trying to mask her reaction.
"We found her in the barn," Shar'ee explained. "We think she tripped and hit her head. Dad wants you to come home, Rohan. Take a look, please."
"Of course."
And just like that, Rohan was gone off to see his family, forgetting all about pregnant Jimena. That annoyed her deeply.
She was glad the old woman was dead.
And with that Rohan was off to see his family, forgetting instantly about pregnant Jimena and this really annoyed her. She was glad the old woman was dead.
Jimena stood in the quiet house, staring at the closed door. Rohan was gone. Again. Off to his family, off to mourn the woman Jimena had just watched bleed out in the barn.
She walked slowly back to the dining table, the untouched plates still warm. The wine glistened in the glass, catching the soft light from the kitchen. She picked up her own fork, took a bite, and chewed without tasting. Her mind was already elsewhere.
Pregnant. The word echoed in her head. It had worked. Rohan was thrilled. He had held her, kissed her, spun her around like a scene from a romance film. But now he was gone, and she was alone again.
She stood up and walked to the mirror in the hallway; the same one she had admired herself in earlier. Her reflection stared back, composed and calculating. She tilted her head slightly, studying her own expression. No guilt. No remorse. Just quiet satisfaction.
Shar'ed was gone. One down.