My Husband's Regret After Letting Me Go

While I was being brutally tortured by criminals, my husband Jalen Adams was off celebrating his sister's birthday. Before I died, I desperately sent him the secret code we had always used for help. His response was ice-cold: "Siara, when you really die, I'll come and collect your body."

As he wished, I died.

Three days later, the police found a mutilated body. Jalen examined the remains and concluded it was a young woman, pregnant, who had been savagely tortured before her death. Little did he know, the woman he examined was his own wife—the one he hated most.

——

The area where my body was discovered had been thoroughly cordoned off, with police officers carefully inspecting every suspicious trace around the scene. The gravity and complexity of the case prompted the higher-ups to bring in my husband, Jalen, to assist in the investigation. As the youngest and most skilled forensic doctor on the team, Jalen had an impressive track record, having helped the police solve numerous difficult cases with his sharp instincts and unmatched expertise.

He wasted no time, rushing to the police station as soon as he was called. His expression was one of deep concentration—his usual calm exterior replaced by a sharp focus. Upon arriving, he squatted in front of the various objects salvaged from the bucket where my body had been hidden, his fingers carefully tracing every mark, every detail left behind. He analyzed everything in complete silence, his mind running through every possible scenario, searching for any clue that could point to the killer.

The silence was finally broken by Captain Leon, who had been standing nearby, observing Jalen’s process. "As soon as we found the body, we immediately sealed off the scene and pulled the surveillance footage," Captain Leon explained, his voice low and serious. "But the murderer was extremely cunning. He disguised himself as a food delivery worker to slip into the canteen, bringing the bucket along with the food supplies. He was wrapped head to toe, leaving no trace of his identity. His anti-surveillance skills are impressive. After leaving the police station, even the Sky Eye couldn’t track him. He vanished without a trace, slipping through our hands as if he knew every move we’d make..."

The atmosphere in the room grew heavier, and the weight of the criminal’s audacious act settled on everyone like a thick fog. It wasn’t just the gruesome nature of the crime—this was a blatant challenge to the authority of the police. My soul lingered over the scene, watching in horror as the neatly arranged body parts lay on the cold ground. The memory of the pain I had endured, the agony of my final moments, sent an involuntary shiver through me, even in death.

Jalen knew how urgent the situation was. Every passing hour felt like a clock ticking down, the pressure mounting with every second. He had been living at the station for days now, eating whatever was available and sleeping when he could, driven by the single goal of reassembling the body parts and uncovering the vital clues that would lead them to the murderer. Failure wasn’t an option, not with a criminal this bold and calculating on the loose.

Captain Leon, unable to hide his growing anxiety, paced the room restlessly. He kept glancing at Jalen, waiting for some breakthrough. When the silence became too much to bear, he finally snapped, his voice breaking the tension, "Jalen, can you say something? I'm losing my mind over here. Do you have any leads? We’re all counting on your autopsy results to move this investigation forward."

Jalen’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t immediately respond. The strain of the investigation was evident on his face. Sweat glistened on his forehead, and with a shaking hand, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a bottle of stomach medication. The weight of the past few days—no sleep, endless work, and the haunting case—had taken its toll. He swallowed the pills dry, grimacing as they went down. His stomach, already strained from the stress and overwork, was barely holding up.

A cold, hoarse voice broke the silence: "The deceased is a female, approximately 26 years old, about 1.65 meters in height. Severe facial damage makes identification impossible. Both eyes are missing, and the wounds are irregular. It's suspected that the murder weapon was something crude, perhaps like a spoon. No tongue was found in the victim's mouth."

Jalen paused, his voice even colder as he continued. "The body we’ve recovered so far is incomplete, but the cuts on the parts are unnervingly precise. This kind of skill... it’s beyond what most people are capable of. Only a professional could do this."

The officers in the room stood tense, their expressions hardening as they absorbed his words. Jalen’s eyes flicked to the body before him. "It's also going to be difficult to recover DNA, given the damage the body sustained."

His words hit like a hammer, igniting a wave of rage in the room. Several officers clenched their fists, their faces red with fury. Captain Leon, barely containing his anger, spat through gritted teeth, "This bastard is worse than an animal. I'll catch him myself, and I'll make him kneel before the victim to beg for forgiveness."

But just as Leon finished, Jalen spoke again, this time with reluctance weighing down his voice. "There’s more... based on the shape of the pelvis, we believe the deceased was pregnant. And the criminal—" He faltered, unable to continue, his words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. But the gruesome reality was all too clear.

The photos on the large screen illuminated the horrific details, each image more disturbing than the last. The entire room fell into a suffocating silence. Tears welled in the eyes of several female officers, quietly falling as they absorbed the horror of what had been done. The cruelty of the crime was unbearable, even for seasoned investigators.