Death Investigation: Who Killed Me?

I woke up to find it was already noon. Evan had just returned home and was changing his shoes at the entrance.

"You are awake. Sean called me about the case..." Evan hesitated, seemingly concerned about my feelings, and finally asked, "Do you want to know?"

Thinking about Luna made me feel down, so Evan decided not to say much and went straight to the kitchen to prepare lunch.

Looking at the meticulously prepared dishes, I had no appetite. After a brief struggle, I asked Evan to tell me more about the case.

Sean said that Luna's body was discovered by a convenience store owner. The end of the alley led to a garbage dump, and he happened to stumble upon it. He was so terrified he did not even open his store today.

The body had been stabbed eight times, with the fatal wound to the heart. There were also numerous signs of beatings, all inflicted at the same time.

I was overwhelmed with grief, not expecting Luna had endured such brutal treatment before she died.

Evan held me close, not knowing how to comfort me but quietly listening to my soft sobs.

Evan took my hands, trying to offer comfort, but noticed the scratches on my hands.

"Chloe, what happened to your hands?" Evan's gaze was intense.

I followed his gaze to my arms and said, "Oh... I got scratched by stray cats while feeding them downstairs a few days ago."

The next day was the weekend, so Evan did not have to work.

When he woke up, I was already gone.

Evan sighed in relief, went to the bathroom, and found a box of opened medication in the trash can.

It was an anti-inflammatory drug, and Evan immediately thought of plastic surgery and facial swelling.

Evan shook his head, not wanting to suspect that the person he shared a bed with might actually be someone else.

After all, we had been together for the past few days. If something were wrong, he should have noticed.

Evan felt frustrated with himself for having such a ridiculous thought.

After washing up, He went downstairs, still not seeing me.

On the table was breakfast, made to his taste.

Next to it was a sticky note with a message: [I went out for something. Remember to have breakfast. Love you!]

Evan felt something was off but could not pinpoint what it was.

Just then, Evan's phone received a text message.

[Congratulations, Ms. Johnson, for becoming a member of our beauty clinic.]

Evan felt a shiver run through him, remembering the medication in the trash can.

Once doubt was planted, everything became suspect.

While searching for something in the study, Evan found a brochure for the beauty clinic, with 'plastic surgery' circled in red.

He tremblingly texted me: [Where are you?]

I replied immediately: [At the coffee shop.]

Evan remained unconvinced and texted again: [Really?]

[What is wrong?]

[Why would I lie to you?]

I then sent a photo of the coffee shop.

Once trust was broken, it was magnified. Evan stared at the photo for a long time, finally noticing a clock in the corner of the mirror showing: [23:23].

Evan collapsed to the floor, trying to reassure himself that it was all just a coincidence.

The next moment, he received a message from Sean.

[Evan, I remember your wife had a mole on her neck.]