**Diary Entry**
I drove to the cottage without telling my husbandI had to know what he was hiding there. What I found horrified me the moment I opened the door.
We own a little place in the countryside. Weekends used to be peacefulgardening, picking vegetables, or just escaping the bustle of London. But lately, he kept making excuses not to go. Work, exhaustion, errands. I didnt think much of iteveryone goes through rough patches.
Then our neighbour mentioned offhand, “Saw your husband at the cottage yesterday.”
I froze. “Thats impossible. He was on shift.”
“No, Im certain it was him,” she insisted.
After hanging up, my mind raced. *Is he seeing someone else? Meeting her there?*
The next weekend, he refused to go again. “Maybe Ill go alone?” I suggested.
“No,” he snapped. “Id worry. Dont go by yourself.”
His sharpness set off alarms. When he left the house later, I followed. Just as I suspectedhe drove straight to the cottage.
I waited, then went myself. My heart pounded as I approached. I turned the knob and wished Id found another woman instead.
The house was silent, but a strange smellheavy, coppery-sweetdrifted from the shed. I stepped inside, my pulse wild.
Animal pelts hung from the beams. But among them was something far worse. Something unmistakably human.
I barely processed it when he appeared in the doorway. His face went pale.
“Its just hunting,” he stammered, stepping closer. “I didnt want to scare you.”
I forced a nod, a shaky smile. “Right. Just surprised.”
He relaxed, but his eyes lingered on me all evening, probing. I didnt sleep.
At dawn, the moment he left, I called the police. *Let them check. Better that than the alternative.*
