For the first two hours, everything was quiet. My husband lay beside me as usual, and I almost convinced myself that maybe I was overthinking everything.

But around four in the morning, he suddenly turned his head toward me. He looked at me carefully, almost examining me, as if checking whether I was really asleep. Then he slowly got out of bed and went to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, he returned. I opened my eyes just a tiny bit — enough to see that he was wearing black gloves and holding a small pair of scissors.

My husband approached me slowly and confidently, as if he had done this many times before. He carefully cut my blouse open, then took his phone and calmly began photographing me.