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756words2026-01-26 11:24

My best friend and I were dismembered and sealed into a concrete wall.
My husband was busy helping his precious 'mistress' look for her missing cat.
Before I died, I called my husband, Captain of the Homicide Squad.

All I got was his harsh rebuke.
"Enough of your ridiculous games, for God's sake! Chloe's cat is missing near her apartment building, God knows if it's hurt. I don't have time for your little dramas right now."
Two weeks later, the police discovered two female corpses encased in concrete at a construction site.
After the bodies were brought to the morgue,
My brother-in-law, the Forensic Doctor, pieced us back in shape together for a day and night.
They analyzed every shred of evidence on the bodies.

Yet neither of them realized the victims were their most despised family members—me, and my best friend..
...
Back to where all this crap begin.
My husband showed up late to the crime scene after receiving a call,

still holding a cat teaser from the pet clinic..
It looked utterly ridiculous amidst the stench and horror of the crime scene.
My husband's gaze fell on the two bodies, and he frowned.
"Two victims this time?"
My brother-in-law, looked up, his expression grave.
"Initial assessment suggests two females, aged between 20 and 30. Based on decomposition, time of death was likely around two weeks ago."
"The bodies are severely mutilated, bones shattered. Identifying them precisely will depend on reconstruction and further analysis."
The bodies were taken back to the station.
My brother-in-law and other colleagues worked for over ten hours.
Finally, they managed to reconstruct the shattered remains.
"Victims' bones were extensively fractured, indicating significant torture before death. Traces of corrosive acid were found in the intestines. Almost every bone was broken. The fatal injury appears to be ligature marks from a guitar string around the neck."
"Most notably, the eyes are missing."
My brother-in-law continued working without pause.
Until he extracted something resembling infant bones and a placenta from one of the bodies.
Everyone in the room instantly paled.
My unflapped brother-in-law finally broke, vomiting into a nearby trash can.
I watched his distress from above, a bitter taste rising in my throat.
Does it turn your stomach? That was your nephew… your own flesh and blood.
"He was several months along. He had a full skeleton. But he never got to see this world."
My husband added grimly, "One of the victims was pregnant."
My brother-in-law pushed himself upright.
His eyes were bloodshot behind his mask, fists clenched.
Shaking with rage: “The bastard who did this deserves hell. I hope the families never find out—how could they ever recover from this?"
Hearing that, I desperately hoped my husband and brother-in-law would never learn it was us lying there.
Because at least they could feel grief for strangers.
If they knew, they'd probably just feel more disgusted.
"I'll expedite the tests, notify you as soon as I have results."
My husband glanced at his watch. "I'll come with you. Need to check nearby hospitals for missing pregnant women."
Just then, a colleague stopped my husband.
He handed over a small, delicate box.
"Captain, heard Anna's pregnant. My wife insisted I give you this. Just some little things for the baby, hope you don't mind."
My husband froze. "Who said she's pregnant?"
The colleague looked bewildered, scratching his head.
"It's all over the station spouses' chat. Isn't it true?"
Hearing "spouses' chat," my husband sneered. "She's always pulling these stunts, thinking it'll make me forgive her. It just makes me sicker."
The colleague looked awkward.
He ventured hesitantly, "But what if it is true? Who would joke about something like that..."
My husband cut him off, his tone ironclad.
"Impossible. I'd know if she were pregnant. I don't want to hear any more of these rumors. Understood?"
"Understood, sir!"
Yeah. I laughed at myself softly.
It suddenly hit me—he really didn't know.
I remember the day I found out I was pregnant.
I waited up late for him, and he finally came home exhausted.
He smelled like alcohol—but underneath it, the faint, sweet scent of jasmine perfume.
I was hurt. Angry.
We had a huge fight. And all I got in return was,
"Anna Miller, you don't deserve to mention her name. She cries when she sees a dead flower on the sidewalk. But you? You're a killer. I'll never forgive you."
But honey, this time I wasn't lying.
I really was pregnant. It's just… now you'll never hear it from me..