Yve gasped, her voice trembling in fear. "No way! That’s… way too terrifying! Did you find the culprit?"
"Not yet," my husband said with a frown, looking worried. "We think it might be someone from that group we busted a while back. I'm worried the murderer might target you if they know you're alive."
"Stay inside for a while," he instructed gently. "If anything strange happens, call me right away."
Yve nodded obediently.
Trying to change the subject, she asked. "Jay, you come here every day to keep me company. Doesn't your wife mind? She is your wife, after all. Didn't she mention being pregnant before?"
The mere mention of me made my husband's expression turned cold. However, when he looked back at Yve, his expression softened again as if he did not want to scare her.
"Why bring her up? If it weren’t for her, my father wouldn't...." He stopped with a frown. "You should get some rest, it's late already."
"But I'm scared…." Yve whined.
"Don't be," he soothed. "I'll stay here until you fall asleep before leaving."
I was floating in the air, watching my husband whisper by Yve's bed, his voice gentle and soothing. His eyes held a tenderness I had never known before.
A picture of porcelain perfection, they seemed sculpted for each other.
A knife twisted in my gut, a hurtful realization shattering my world. I had always been the outsider.
But Jayden, my dear husband… the woman you were so worried about... was not the angel you think she was.
Part 5
The next day, Jayden and an officer visited obstetrics and gynecology departments at large hospitals in the city. They searched for pregnant women matching the age of the victim and the fetus, hoping to find anything unusual.
By the time they reached the second-largest hospital in the city, it was almost evening. My husband flipped through the maternity records, comparing information to see if anything matched, searching for clues.
A nearby nurse mumbled, "This Samara Anderson... why can't I reach her by phone? It's way past her appointment time."
My husband paused for a moment but didn't pay much attention, perhaps thinking it was a common name. The truth was, it was my name, Samara Anderson. I, the one he thought a liar about being pregnant to escape from all the burden of blame, was here for a real checkup that day. I was not a criminal. I desperately wanted his child, but it was not meant to be.