My Wife Pranked Me With Her Severed Hand

The female officer pulled out an evidence bag, carefully sealing the box and the severed limb into separate compartments.

Then, she turned her gaze back to me. My face was completely devoid of color.

"You haven't touched it, have you?" she asked.

"N-No!" I stammered, my voice shaking. "I called 911 the moment I realized something was wrong."

She nodded before turning to whisper a few instructions to her partner. The male officer nodded in understanding and ushered me to the side, while she stepped away to radio for backup and forensic teams.

"Take it easy," the male officer said. "Just tell me what happened from the beginning."

I took a shaky breath and walked him through the timeline and how I had stumbled upon the gruesome discovery.

As he listened to my fragmented explanation, his expression grew increasingly serious. "So, you're saying your wife brought this box home… on April Fool's Day?"

"Yes. She loves pranking me. She'd never miss an opportunity like that."

"And when did she leave for her business trip?"

"The day after April Fool's Day," I replied.

The two officers exchanged a quick look.

In that fraction of a second, my stomach plummeted, and a dreadful premonition twisted in my gut. "Is something wrong?"

The male officer didn't give me a straight answer. Instead, he asked me to point out every single spot where the box had been kept.

They took reference photos and strictly instructed me not to clean any other part of the house.

While they were working, the female officer took a call. She kept her voice incredibly low, but a few stray words still managed to drift over to me.

"...Surveillance… nobody… still haven't reached her…"

When she hung up, her face was visibly tenser than before.

"Charlie," she suddenly called me by my name. "Are you absolutely certain this box was brought into the house on April 1st?"

I froze for a moment and instinctively replied, "Yes, of course. She brought it home that evening. I even called her childish for it."

The male officer closed his notepad and looked at me intently. "Our colleagues just reviewed your neighborhood's security footage. The cameras show that absolutely no one entered your apartment on April 1st."

My brain went completely numb. "That's impossible! Alayna comes home every single day. How could the cameras not catch her? And she always brings home groceries for the next day's meals! All the vendors downstairs know that!"

Midway through my outburst, I realized something was off myself.

If Alayna hadn't come home, then who was the person who had spent the entire night with me?

The moment that thought crystallized, a violent jolt of terror shot through my body.

"No… No, that's impossible…" I began pacing back and forth, babbling incoherently. My nails dug frantically into the back of my hand, tearing the skin, but I didn't even feel the pain.

The two officers exchanged a subtle, wary glance.

The male officer stepped forward and gently caught my hands. "Hey, calm down. We're not saying we don't believe you. We've already dispatched a team to track down your wife. Right now, the priority is figuring out—"

The mention of Alayna sent my panic into overdrive. I gripped his hand tightly. "I called her so many times! She wouldn't answer! Then her phone went completely dead! Is my wife the killer—"

"Mr. Collins," the female officer interrupted firmly. "You need to calm down."

"How can I calm down? Where is the person that hand belongs to? Is she still alive? Was she murdered? Am I next?"

Overwhelmed, I sank to the floor, burying my head in my arms as my whole body convulsed with tremors.

Just then, the male officer held out a phone to me. A call was active on the screen.

I recognized the number instantly. It was Alayna.

From the speaker, a familiar voice drifted out. "Honey? I'm on my business trip. I've been stuck in back-to-back meetings all day. Don't be scared. The officer already explained everything to me…"