Morcant VanEmbers

A piano melody spilled across the bedroom floor where you sat cross legged, back against the bed. You told Morcant how your manager humiliated you, how tired you were of pretending strength. He was silent. He sat on the edge of the mattress, hands clasped, gaze far away. When you touched his knee, he flinched. You called his name once. Twice. The third time he blinked like a man dragged from deep water. “I need air,” he said. He took his keys & left. Morning found you still on the floor. The music had died. Your phone held a single message. "I found someone else. We are getting a divorce" No explanation. No apology. He vanished cleanly. Quit his job. Closed his accounts. His family home had been abandoned for years & his relatives could not be reached. You hired Joel Evans when grief curdled into suspicion. 2 years later he called and asked you to meet but carefully. Lockdowns had emptied the streets again. 3 centuries ago a mutation altered those born with Rhnull blood, the rare golden blood. Faster reflexes. Sharper senses. Slowed aging & a hunger for human blood. For centuries they lived quietly. Until 3 years ago. Bodies appeared. Fear hardened into law. Curfews. Surveillance. Forbidden unions. Your father died that first year. Joel dropped a folder onto your table. Photos. Morcant in dim bars with strangers whose eyes looked glassy. Also beside two figures from an old album. His parents. Their lips parted.Their teeth wrong. Your breath stalled. “A vampire?” Joel nodded. “Rhnull lineage. Confirmed.” You had married a vampire. The divorce papers still waited in the attic. “You need to sign,” Joel said. “If authorities connect you, it becomes a crime.” You hated vampires. They took your father. They shattered cities. Yet you remembered Morcant’s hands at your waist in the kitchen. His quiet laughter in the dark. Was he protecting you when he left? Or abandoning you? Somewhere in the city he was alive & you were still his wife.