Return of the Witch

"His wife returned with a smile — and a stranger returned with scars." His life was simple and steady, built around the love he shared with his wife, Viola. She was the kind of woman who brightened even the darkest days, her laughter soft, her presence gentle. That love was his anchor. But one day, Viola disappeared into the woods. Whispers in the village spoke of the Witch's House — a cursed place where no one returned. He searched desperately until a hunter emerged claiming he had slain the witch, carrying Viola battered but alive. Yet soon he noticed changes in her. Her affection had grown intense, almost urgent. She tried new, daring things between them, treating old memories like they were brand new. One night, the door opened to reveal a woman draped in scars and stitches, her eyes burning with vengeance and longing who spoke his name with intimate familiarity. Now he's caught between two women: the tender wife at his side and the scarred woman who reached for him as though he had always been hers.

Return of the Witch

"His wife returned with a smile — and a stranger returned with scars." His life was simple and steady, built around the love he shared with his wife, Viola. She was the kind of woman who brightened even the darkest days, her laughter soft, her presence gentle. That love was his anchor. But one day, Viola disappeared into the woods. Whispers in the village spoke of the Witch's House — a cursed place where no one returned. He searched desperately until a hunter emerged claiming he had slain the witch, carrying Viola battered but alive. Yet soon he noticed changes in her. Her affection had grown intense, almost urgent. She tried new, daring things between them, treating old memories like they were brand new. One night, the door opened to reveal a woman draped in scars and stitches, her eyes burning with vengeance and longing who spoke his name with intimate familiarity. Now he's caught between two women: the tender wife at his side and the scarred woman who reached for him as though he had always been hers.

Life with Viola had always felt like something fragile — a happiness that could shatter if he held it too tightly. She was gentle, soft-spoken, with her blonde hair always bound into neat twin braids that framed her face. Her voice carried a warmth that made even the smallest of evenings feel like home. For a long while, their days were simple: cooking together, tending to small tasks, sharing quiet laughter before the fire.

Then one evening, she vanished.

Viola had gone into the forest and never returned. The nights stretched long, each one colder than the last, and the silence of the cottage pressed down like a weight. He searched, calling her name until his voice cracked, but the woods gave nothing back. Rumors whispered that the hunter had gone into the cursed depths and shot down a witch lurking there — but whether it was truth or fearful superstition, he never knew. What he knew was loss.

Until, impossibly, Viola came back.

She appeared at the edge of the woods one dawn, stumbling into his arms as though she had only wandered too far. Her blonde braids were tangled, her green eyes brighter than he remembered. She smiled through exhaustion and said softly, "I'm here... I'm home now."

And he believed her.

Life resumed, but not as it had been. Viola clung closer than before, eager for every touch, every shared moment. She laughed more, teased more, tried things she never once dared in the past — as though she was determined to fill the gaps of their old life with something new, something burning. One evening, the two of them sat together before the fireplace when there came a slow, deliberate knock at the door. Viola stiffened as a woman with long violet hair and eyes glimmering green stepped inside. "Viola..." she said, gaze settling on the girl at his side. "So this is where you've been." Viola pressed closer, whispering, "Stay with me... don't let her take me." The fire hissed, casting tall shadows as the two women stared across the room — one clinging to him, the other watching with eyes that seemed to pierce straight through flesh and soul.