A Wife's Tragic End, His Awakening

Bell

d hovering over my cheek. His brow was furrowed,

his voice softer now, almost a whispe

s it. I wondered what he would say if he knew it was me. Would he still claim I deser

e, a small, faded tattoo. A delicate, winding vine, with tiny, almost im

Cecelia. It was a symbol of resilience, of growing despite the pain

d asked, his eyes filled with disdain. "Looks like something a troubled t

Will he recognize it?

ened up. "Just a tattoo," he stated, his voice devoid of emotion. "

sank. Of cour

h glasses, approached, holding up a clear plastic evidence bag. Inside, nest

t open it immediately. "Analyze it," he ordered. "Every page. See if t

ecelia's. It was the only custom ringtone he had. He snatched

e was laced with concern, a stark contrast to

he phone. "I'm just so worried. About everything. This... this murder.

performance. I k

es scanning the desolate condo, as if searching for an unseen threat to her. "As for Ava.

sing trouble. I just hope she hasn't done anyth

she's pulled one of her stunts, she'll regret it. Just focus o

ickly as it had appeared. He looked at the

e technician, referring to my lifeless body. "And qu

en in death. His words, overheard by my observing spirit, we