Unconscious Husband: Meet Her Love In Silence by Ken Slaner

Worry washed over Ariana. Something was off. She approached the door, thinking she’d get the maid’s attention. But the door
stood firm, not giving way even a little.
She pulled and yanked, but it was a no-go. Panic bubbled up as the truth settled in. She was trapped.
Heart pounding, Ariana hammered on the door, hoping her voice carried beyond it.
“Hey! Can anyone hear me?”
The maid outside smirked, hearing Ariana’s distant yells and wild thumps against the door.
Miss Pierre had hit the nail on the head. Lately, there were quite a few cunning ladies aiming to tie their fate to the well-heeled
Fredricks. Claiming to be a doctor? Probably just a sneaky ploy to cozy up to Mr. Fredrick.
Such nerve. Well, she had snagged this sly one in the act. A Little lesson might be just the thing to quash any silly ideas she had
about the man of the house.
But then, footsteps. Another staff member, curious about the commotion from the bathroom. Not in the mood to be caught in the
act, the maid zipped over and redirected her colleague, spinning a tale about a busted light and a sticky door. She said she was
about to ring up the repair crew and nudged her coworker to join her.
Throwing one last doubtful look at the bathroom, the other maid shuffled on. The moment they were out of whispering range, the
maid booked it, leaving Ariana in her makeshift prison.
Back in the bathroom, Ariana’s voice wore thin with no answer. A sinking feeling took hold. It was clear. The maid had probably
locked her in on purpose.

Feeling around her pockets, she remembered. Her phone? Upstairs, doing zilch. She let out an annoyed huff. Now and then, she
gave the door a whack and hollered, but getting noticed was looking like a lost cause.
Thinking back, she had taken such a maze-like route in this mammoth of a house. Who would be around often enough to catch
wind of her calls?
Trying to be smart about it, she yelled in bursts, resting between.
Yet, an eerie quiet seemed to wrap around her in that windowless chamber, only pierced by her own racing heartbeats.
In the pitch dark, Ariana strained to see, but shapes remained ghostly. Initially, panic had her in a vice grip. But as time dragged
on and her own ragged breathing was the only sound, a bone- chilling fear settled in her heart. It was as if the shadows were
pressing down on her.
Years had passed since her last dance with claustrophobia. Yet, in this moment, her thoughts were a blank slate.
Cold dread tightened around Ariana. Her heart raced as memories crashed in like tidal waves. She remembered that time, as a
little girl, when her wicked stepmother had shut her in a dark room. The echoes of her own past cries seemed to bounce around
in her head, making her shiver.
Suddenly, another memory: the harrowing car crash from half a decade ago. She felt trapped, like back in that mangled car. She
could almost taste the sharp tang of gasoline, feel the sticky warmth of blood, her own mixed with Theodore’s, dripping down.
The raw desperation she had felt, holding onto his lifeless form, chanting his name like a mantra, engulfed her again.
“Theodore,” she whispered, tears carving pathways down her cheeks.
Leaning heavily against the door, she felt the world fading to black.

But maybe, just maybe, some cosmic force took pity on her. Because, at that moment, the door slowly swung open, letting in a
hopeful ray of light.