Everyone thinks they know their soulmate, until they don’t.

I was no exception. I fell in love, got married to the man that I thought was my soulmate and my everything. There were no secrets between us, not when we had readily shared every waking moment together, our laughter filling our home as we’d have fun and live our life. I would have trusted him with everything, my past and present and future and one day I had always hoped to trust him with the children we would have.

You’re never prepared for the twists and turns that life throws at you. You never quite know what to expect, even when you think you know it all - I learned, the hard way, that you never know everything, you don’t even know those that you love.

We all harbour secrets, some of them darker than others.

Secrets slowly started to seep into our marriage. Without realising it, I started keeping my own with my heart as in love as it ever had been, but my gut telling me something was wrong. Something was dangerously wrong, a feeling and sensation that I should have listened to and never ignored. But we can all do stupid things when we’re in love.

We started spending nights apart, crawling into bed between the sheets at ungodly hours both too tired to ask where the other had been. It became a silent agreement between us, neither of us would say where we were and neither of us would ask where the other had been. Perhaps we felt that we didn’t need to.

The only day that seemed to go without this strange ritual were Sunday’s, Sunday’s where we would lounge about in bed, before getting up and starting our day. A lazy morning with a cup of coffee, a good breakfast, before spending the day entwined in one another’s arms as we watched an old movie, laughing at the old jokes and cringing at the corniness of them. And these were the days where it felt natural, as though whatever else happened during the week. It was just the two of us, Jason and Lizzie as we always had been.

But that all changed this morning, as our usual Sunday morning routine was interrupted. His side of the bed, cooling down as though he’d long since left it. A grunt of protest left my lips as I kicked the bedding aside, running a hand through my long-tangled mess of hair and bundled it up, brushing the sleep from my eyes as I padded barefoot downstairs.

“Jase …” I called out, yawning into the back of my hand, as I attempted to follow the sounds. Slowly, sleep started to leave my system as the adrenaline kicked in, feeling my stomach flip as I heard the sound of my husband’s voice, hushed, reassured and with a note of fear, as I pushed open the door that led into the basement.

I flicked the switch, blinding light hitting my retinas and causing me to wince, look away for a second. Even though I knew what I would see. “L-Lizzie …” came the stuttering sound of my husband’s voice “… I can … I can explain, love” he tried, but too late, as I saw what he was doing. Untying the bonds of the prize that I had caught not more than two days ago. The woman who had begged me to take her and to turn her … the woman who now betrayed me.

“No, you can’t Jason” I stated, amazed at how cold my voice sounded, as I sighed and ran my hands through my bundled up hair. “All I wanted, Jason, was for a lazy Sunday … was that too much to ask for?” I groaned “Now, I’m going to have to kill you …” as I felt the sharp pang of my fangs pushing through my gums.

We all have our secrets, I guess I should have told my husband mine sooner.