Only After I Died, Did She Say She Loved Me

After a brief silence, Sofia's expression shifted to a cold sneer.

"He's always been petty and jealous. This isn't the first time we've fought, and each time, he comes crawling back to apologize. He's just trying to show me how 'hurt' he is this time."

"Andy, you should focus on solving this murder. This trivial matter doesn't warrant your concern."

Hearing this, Andy hesitated and sighed, turning to arrange the search.

I let out a bitter laugh. I had thought our fights would make her realize my frustration.

But now I see—she just saw me as a fool.

Sofia continued her work in the lab.

For two days, she had been tirelessly trying to piece together the process of how I had been tortured and mutilated.

It wasn't until her head began to ache that she finally stopped.

Just then, her phone rang.

It was someone from my company.

"Hello, are you Sofia, Andrew's wife? He has been absent for three days, and if he doesn't come in soon, we'll have to terminate his employment."

Sofia sneered. "He has always been irresponsible, and he is violent. You should definitely fire him!"

"Could you contact him? His phone seems to be off..."

"I'm sorry. I don't have time. If he doesn't show up, just fire him."

Before hanging up, she added, "And never rehire him. He is a danger to your staff."

"..."

The phone was hung up.

At this time, Andy approached. "Sofia, maybe you should go home and rest. Give your husband a call. After all, you're still married, and understanding goes both ways."

Hearing this, Sofia wanted to refuse but relented when the pain in her head grew sharper.

On her way home, she turned on her phone and checked her call logs.

At the top was a recent call to Calvin Yukio, her childhood sweetheart, with the affectionate label "Dear Calvin."

Looking at this note, I couldn't help but laugh bitterly at myself.

Even though she was immersed in her forensic work, she had been checking on Calvin's condition throughout.

As for my last call, it was three days ago.

That day, Sofia had taken Calvin to our house. She had called me in advance, asking when I'd be home.

I had bought her favorite necklace, hoping to surprise her, and lied, saying I was working late.

But when I opened the door, I saw them in the living room, locked in a passionate kiss.

Their clothes were half-off, their hands exploring each other.

Furious, I grabbed a broom and swung it at Calvin.

But before I could reach him, he collapsed to the ground.

Ignoring my questions, Sofia immediately called an ambulance and accompanied him to the hospital, where he was diagnosed with heart disease.

That night, she ran home angrily to blame me, saying that if I hadn't frightened him, Calvin wouldn't have had a heart attack and almost died.

But she was blind and I didn't see her lover at all. Calvin's heart had failed because of their intense encounter, not because of me.

In a fit of rage, I left home, never to return.

Sofia's fingers hovered over my name in her contacts before she unexpectedly tapped it.

I held my breath. Before I died, I had set up an automatic voicemail message on my phone, then flung it into the woods.