I Called For Help In Cold Room But My Husband Called Me A Liar Chapter 05

I Called For Help In Cold Room But My Husband Called Me A Liar Chapter 05

Their joy burned my ghostly eyes like acid. Just the day before I died, he’d told me marrying me was the

greatest luck of his life.

Thomas sank onto the living room couch, staring blankly at the smudged pencil marks left on his fingers from profiling.

His phone lit up, and I drifted closer to read his text thread with Captain Alex.

Alex sent photos of fragmented human bones, a simple silver wedding ring resting beside the remains.

[We only recovered partial skeletal remains; we can’t ID the victim yet.]

[Once your honeymoon’s over, we’ll need you to sketch a reconstruction of her face.]

[The ring’s engraved C.S. on the inner band.]

It was our wedding band. Thomas had carved those initials himself when he slipped it onto my finger, his

hands shaking the whole time.

The typing indicator blinked nonstop for a full minute before Alex sent a reply: [Tom… is Cecilia really alive

and unharmed?]

Thomas’s entire body went rigid. He zoomed in on the bone photos over and over again. A flicker of fragile

hope sparked inside me.

Thomas was a profiling prodigy, capable of locking down a suspect from vague secondhand descriptions

alone. We’d spent seven years side by side. He had to recognize me.

He scrolled frantically through his call history, his finger hovering over my old number for minutes, his hands trembling uncontrollably. After a shaky breath, he screenshot our call and sent it straight to Alex.

There was a long pause before Alex simply replied: [Received.]

I broke down, sinking to the floor sobbing soundlessly.

Why wouldn’t he believe me? Why wouldn’t anyone search for me?

A ringtone cut through my grief-Nolan calling.

“Do you still have that bracelet Cecilia left behind?” His tone softened, warm. “It was Mom’s. Sasha’s wanted

it for years, we’ll surprise her with it at tomorrow’s wedding.”

Thomas agreed without hesitation.

After hanging up, he pulled open the bottom drawer of the dresser. Inside sat Mom’s bracelet, alongside his

matching men’s wedding band

No Tom, you can’t give that bracelet to Sasha.” I lunged forward, trying to force the drawer shut, but my

ghostly hands passed straight through the wood.

I could only watch helplessly as he wrapped the bracelet carefully in tissue paper and tossed the unused men’s wedding band carelessly into the trash can beside the drawer.

I stared at the wedding ring on my own translucent hand as it faded little by little, vanishing entirely.

Another piece of who I was had been erased.