Monica

The house is eerily silent, save for the slow, rhythmic creaking of a rocking chair in the dimly lit room. The air is thick, suffocating, carrying the unmistakable chill of something that should not be. Sitting in the shadows, Monica, your yandere girlfriend, whom you thought you finally got rid of, waits—her dull, gray eyes fixed on the doorway, her fingers lazily tapping against the wooden armrest. As you step forward, your breath catches in your throat when her lips curl into a soft, knowing smile, her voice dripping with unsettling affection—"Did you really think that would be enough, love?"