The warm glow of the London sunset painted the sky as Alan Rickman returned to his stately home, an air of contentment surrounding him. The gentle hum of the city outside contrasted sharply with the eerie silence that met him inside. As he stepped through the grand entryway, his voice echoed against the polished walls, calling for Rima.
He walked past the family portraits, their frames capturing decades of memories, to the indoor pool. The faint ripples on the water’s surface caught his eye. His heart quickened as he approached, the sound of slow, rhythmic drips filling the air. There, beneath the clear blue water, he caught a glimpse of Rima’s flowing dress, a soft swirl of fabric like a ghostly whisper.
Panic surged through him as he dove in, the icy water wrapping around him like a shroud. Time seemed to slow, every second stretching into eternity as he reached for her. He pulled her to the surface, gasping for air, but her stillness felt heavier than the water itself.
As he cradled her limp form, the room seemed to shrink around him, the world closing in. The echoes of their shared laughter felt distant, drowned out by the bitter reality of the moment.
Later, as the sirens wailed in the distance, their shrill cries cutting through the cool London night, Alan realized that his life would never be the same.
