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I Thought I Was Living a Dream with My Perfect Fiancé, but I Found a Nightmare under His Mattress

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Eric was a perfect fiancé who showered me with love and care. But my world turned upside down when I found a cryptic message telling me to look under the mattress. What I discovered revealed a nightmare I could never have imagined, shattering my illusions and changing my life forever.

I never imagined I’d be sharing something like this, but here I am, spilling my guts to the internet because I need to get this off my chest.

I’m Melody, a successful woman in my early 30s. Life was pretty good until I moved in with Eric, my charming and affluent fiancé.

Eric’s place is nothing short of a palace in one of those high-end neighborhoods that people dream about. From the moment I stepped through the doors, I felt like I was living in a fairy tale.

We had a cook and a cleaner, Maria, who came by a few times a week to take care of everything. It was like living in a dream.

One evening, as I tried to help clear the dinner table, Eric gently took the plate from my hands.

“Maria will take care of that,” he said with a soft smile.

“But I feel bad, Eric. I don’t want her to think I’m just sitting around doing nothing,” I protested.

He shook his head and cupped my face in his hands. “You deserve to be treated like a queen. You work hard, and you shouldn’t have to lift a finger at home. Let us take care of you.”

I sighed, letting the warmth of his touch soothe my concerns. “Alright, but just this once. I don’t want to get too spoiled.”

He laughed and kissed my forehead. “Too late for that, love. Spoiling you is my life’s mission.”

It was easy to fall into the comfort he provided, the dreamlike quality of our life together.

But even dreams have their shadows.

At first, I didn’t notice the small things. Eric stocked the fridge with healthy foods and wouldn’t let me buy anything else. One Saturday morning, I found myself craving ice cream, so I picked some up while running errands.

When I returned, Eric spotted the grocery bag and raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward the bag.

“Ice cream. I had a craving,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

He frowned and playfully shook his finger at me. “We don’t eat junk food in this house.”

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