I Thought My Boyfriend Was the Killer, But I Was the Murderer

I knew this company. Their main app was something called “SeeYou.”

It was a local social networking app, insanely popular among young people lately. The big selling point was this: once you completed a personality test, it would automatically match you with people who really “got” you.

No wonder he could so easily figure out some of my interests. Turned out this was literally his field.

After that, we started chatting more and more. He was frighteningly good at reading people. He could tell what kind of personality I had at a glance, then, based on that, infer my hobbies and daily habits. I was honestly blown away.

I told him about the fight with my ex, and some of the emotional mess between us.

He patiently walked me through it all, even trying to stand in my ex’s shoes to help me understand why he might have acted the way he did.

In the end, he said, “The misunderstanding between you two isn’t that deep. It wouldn’t be hard to clear things up. If you’re okay with it, I can get to know him, talk to him for you in a different way, and help you tell him what you really feel inside.”

I was moved by how he put it, so I gave him my ex-boyfriend’s contact info.

That day, he was the one who took me home. Every gesture was so gentlemanly, never crossing any lines. That alone made me start to feel a little something for him.

Later, my ex and I got back together. But it didn’t last long before we were arguing again.

In a fit of anger, I broke up with him. As soon as Harvey found out, he rushed over to comfort me.

That day, I asked him, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“I don’t.”

“Would you be willing to be with me?”

He froze. It was a long moment before he finally said, “I’m truly honored that you like me. But you can’t build a relationship on a brief encounter or a twist of fate. What matters more is long-term companionship and growing together. I think we should take our time to really get to know each other, then move our relationship forward from there.”

I had to admit, he was right.

After that, we started seeing each other more and more often. A few months later, we finally made it official and became the kind of couple everyone else envied.

“Nora, hurry up, the movie’s about to start!” Yara grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the theater.

We slipped into the auditorium at the last minute. The place was packed; the movie really was as popular as everyone had said.

The story was about a loving couple who separated because of a misunderstanding. In the end, the heroine discovered that the hero had only left temporarily to help her achieve her dream. She was deeply moved, and once the misunderstanding was cleared up, they got back together.

The plot was simple, but the atmosphere was so warm and tender it was hard not to shed a few tears.

But just as the hero got down on one knee to propose, a harsh roar exploded in my ears.

A second later, a sharp pain shot through my head. I fought to pull myself together, to stay conscious, but it was useless.

In the final instant before I blacked out, I vaguely heard Yara shouting my name.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself lying in a hospital bed. Sitting in front of me was Dr. West, the same doctor who had examined me that morning.

Yara was right beside me, watching me with worry written all over her face.

“You’re finally awake. Are you okay?” She let out a heavy sigh of relief when she saw my eyes open.

“I’m fine. How did I end up here?”

“When we were watching the movie, you suddenly shouted, ‘Men are all assholes!’ and then started attacking the screen. You kept at it until you collapsed on the floor and passed out. I was scared to death—and on top of that, I had to pay a shitload of money for the damages.” Yara huffed. “You owe me at least a few really good meals to make up for it.”