"Have you heard?” Mrs. Larson leaned in, her voice lowered to a whisper. “The old lady in Building No. 2 was hacked to death by her own daughter-in-law!"
I shook my head quickly. "Mrs. Larson, I really don't like hearing this kind of gossip.” My voice was firm, hoping to end the conversation before it started.
The weight of the grocery bag pulled at my arms. Today, beef was selling for four dollars per kilogram and I had bought ten.
Mrs. Larson’s eyes fell on the bag. "That’s a lot of meat for one day,” she remarked, her head slightly tilted.
I forced a smile. "I just bought a new freezer. Figured I stock up while prices are low.” After saying that, I adjusted the bag in my hand and waved her goodbye, eager to leave.
The door clicked shut behind me. Before I had the chance to set the meat down, I heard a knock. I opened the door to see the leader of my husband's department standing there, his face a mix of concern and seriousness.
He stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room, resting on me for a few moments longer than necessary. After what felt like an eternity, he sighed deeply. "No sign of Charlie yet?" he asked.
I shook my head, forcing myself to stay calm. “No, not at all,” I said, gesturing him to seat. I turned quickly, my hands trembling as I poured him a drink, tears threatening to spill. "I can’t reach him. His phone … maybe he doesn’t care about his family anymore.”
The man eyed the meat I had just bought, his brows raised. "Buying so much meat, did you carry it all by yourself?” Before I could answer, he stood and moved towards the door where the bags still sat. "Let me help you," he offered, already reaching for the bags.
Panic shot through me. I rushed to block his path and grabbed the bags from his hand. “It’s fine, I can do it myself. The freezer’s pretty full and I wouldn’t want to trouble you with it.”
The man smiled, his hand brushed mind as he let go of the bag. "You don't have to be so polite,” he murmured, his voice lowered. “It must be hard, being alone for so long. As Charlie's leader, I feel a certain responsibility.” He patted the back of my hand, making my skin crawl.
I instinctively stepped back. "I’m fine, really. I'm used to living alone,” I said, trying to sound resolute.
The man smiled again, sly and knowing.
He wiped his hands together and settled back onto the sofa.
Charlie's boss was nearing fifty now. His current wife, barely thirty, was his second marriage. She had been his mistress, whom he wed once he had the money to do so.
I busied myself with the freezer, forcing a smile as I sorted the scattered items and moved the meat into place.
When I was done, I closed the door and smiled again, this time genuinely.
The quiet days of my husband’s absence was a relief I hadn’t known I needed.
Charlie had always been the star employee at work. He never complained or refused any task. However, the moment he stepped through our front door, he became a different person.
He treated me like I was nothing more than an object, a body he had bought for 40,000 dollars, the price of my dowry.
To him, I wasn’t a wife. I was a possession.
Sadly, the 40,000 dollars had gone to buy my brother a wedding house. My family had sold me for bricks and mortar.
After our marriage, my mother never asked if I was happy, as if her job was done and I existed solely to fund my brother’s future.
The worst moment of my life came when Charlie beat me so badly my eardrum bled. I fled, barefoot and in pajamas, through the winter night. A kind stranger took me to the hospital and the doctor said that my eardrum was nearly perforated.
Later, when I finally had the courage to file for divorce, Charlie stormed into my parents’ home and caused a scene, demanding the 40,000 dollars back.
My parents, without hesitation, knelt in front of me, begging me to stay with him. They insisted my brother needed that house, completely ignoring the hell I lived in.
Just as I was about to proceed with the divorce, I got pregnant. Charlie promised he would change for the sake of the baby and I believed him.
However, it wasn’t long before he grabbed my hair and smashed my head against the table. That was when I realized, the man in front of me would never change.
The day I miscarried, Charlie disappeared.
People pitied me. They said it was tragic, my husband running off like that. They didn’t understand.
I hoped he never came back.
Chapter 2Two months had passed since Charlie disappeared.
His department, frustrated with his unexplained absence, had grown impatient. Unable to fire him due to the strict employment regulations, they reported him to the police in a fit of anger.
Although I had expected this, my heart still skipped a beat the moment the police knocked on my door.
Two officers stood at the entrance. One older, with a calm demeanor and the other younger, his face full of eagerness. The older officer introduced himself as Officer Collins, while the younger one was Officer Kirk.
They flashed their badges and Officer Collins said, "Aren't you going to invite us in?"
I quickly opened the door wide. "Of course, come in. I’m sorry, the place is a bit messy."
Officer Collins said nothing, his eyes scanning the room. He moved with slow precision, every corner falling under his sharp gaze.
I stood by the door, fists clenched, unsure of what to do with my hands.
Officer Kirk broke the silence, his voice light but tinged with judgment. “Sir, this Charlie Lowe must be a scumbag. He probably ran off with his mistress.”
My chest tightened at his words. They had likely spoken to the neighbors before coming here. Charlie’s reputation was not good to begin with. He was often seen bringing home different women while I was out, something that had sparked many whispered warnings from my neighbors.
Although they meant well, I had long hoped that one of those women would finally take him away for good. I had even imagined myself thanking her for that.
Officer Collins’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Was there anything unusual before he disappeared?”
In the face of his sharp and probing gaze, I swallowed hard, struggling to keep my composure. "No, not really,” I stammered, “But he did take a call the night before he left. He seemed happy, though I didn’t know who he was speaking to.”
Officer Collins nodded slowly, his eyes drifting away from me.
His gaze landed the old freezer in the corner of the kitchen. It didn’t match the rest of the room, standing out like a relic of time.
"This freezer,” Officer Collins muttered, stepping toward it, “looks a little out of place.”
I cleared my throat, fighting the panic rising in me. “It’s just an old appliance. I was going to throw it out, but with the price of meat being so cheap recently, I thought I’d keep it to store more food.”
Officer Collins glanced at me, then reached out to open the door of the freezer.
My heart raced in my chest, but I stood frozen in place, not daring to stop him.
Officer Collins peered inside. The sight of frozen meat and chicken wings seemed to ease the tension in his brow. He slowly closed the freezer and turned to me with a half-smile. “No need to stock up so much. Fresh food is healthier, you know.”
I let out a nervous laugh. "My salary doesn’t stretch far, so I save where I can.”
Officer Collins chuckled lightly before his face turned serious again. "He probably called his lover before he ran off. It’s likely that your husband left with his mistress.”
The tension in my chest eased, allowing me a brief moment of relief.
However, Officer Collins’s gaze hardened again. "Of course, we can’t rule out foul play, either. It’s strange that there’s been no trace of him.”
My heart raced again and I feigned disbelief. "Homicide? That’s impossible! He didn’t have enemies. Who would want to harm him?”
Officer Collins’s lips curled into a knowing smile. "Well, if anything unusual comes up, be sure to notify us or call 911 right away.”
After a pause, he spoke, "We may have to come back again. I trust you’ll cooperate with the investigation, right?”
I nodded quickly. “Of course. Thank you for your service, Officer Collins.”
After the officers left, I pressed my ear to the door, listening intently to the fading sound of their footsteps. Only when I was sure they were gone, I grabbed a stool and rushed to the window to peer outside, careful not to make a sound.
Through a narrow slit, I watched them leave. But, as Officer Collins neared the building entrance, he suddenly stopped. His eyes turned toward my window like a hawk spotting its prey.
I gasped and ducked down, my heart pounding in my chest.
I waited, counting the seconds. When I finally dared to look again, the officers were turning the corner, their figures disappearing from view.
I stepped off the stool, my legs shaking beneath me.
My gaze drifted toward the old freezer in the corner. Thoughts races through my mind, but I stood there, unable to move, lost in the stillness of the room.