The Kiss of Death

I lowered my gaze to my hands. On the ring finger of my left hand was a simple band, a ring that had cost me nearly my life to hold onto.

My hands were clean but neither slender nor soft.

Chester often complained that my cooking lacked variety and flavor, so I spent almost every evening after work in the kitchen. The constant exposure to grease and dishwashing detergent had ruined the skin on my hands long ago.

I raised my head, and tears again welled up in my eyes. I asked, "Ms. Castillo, can I see Chester?"

Eleanor hesitated for a moment before nodding.

"The accident was very severe. Mr. Paget's body had to be stitched back together. You should mentally prepare yourself…"

She led me to the forensic room, where the air was thick with the acrid tang of disinfectant, the metallic tang of blood, and a nauseating undercurrent of decay that made my stomach churn.

On the autopsy table lay Chester, covered in a white sheet. His form was barely recognizable as human. A blood-stained hand protruded from the sheet.

The matching ring he wore that was identical to mine had been removed by the forensic team. It was already cleaned and sealed in an evidence bag nearby. It left a faint pale mark around his finger.

With a loud thud, I fell to my knees on the cold floor of the forensic room. I curled up as I broke into uncontrollable sobs.

"My parents left me, and now you've left me too… Why?" My cries grew hoarse and desperate.

"Chester, you promised to take care of me for a lifetime. Why did you leave me alone? Why did you force me out of the car? Why didn't you take me with you? Why!"

Eleanor was clearly distressed by the scene. She came over to help me up, gently patting my back in an attempt to console me.

Just then, the sharp clack of high heels echoed from outside the room.

A woman in her 50s entered, wearing high heels and heavy makeup. Her tear-streaked face and disheveled hair betrayed her emotional state.

The person was my mother-in-law, Florence Callaghan.

Beside her stood a young woman in a loose sweater, holding a baby boy no older than a year in her arms.

On her left ring finger was a simple band, nearly identical to ours.