Chapter 2 Chapter 2

I had killed her.

I had killed someone.

The thought kept repeating in my head until it became impossible to think about anything else. I was a murderer, and I didn't know what to do in that moment. But then I thought about my children, my seven-year-old twin boys and my one-year-old baby girl.

I couldn't afford prison.

That was where criminals went.

My stomach twisted as I rushed toward the door and turned the lock. Once I heard the click, I walked back toward the woman, who was still lying there in her own pool of blood.

My entire body was literally shaking.

I reached into my pocket for my phone and dialed the only person I could trust.

It was diabolical, considering he was the man who had been cheating on me, but we had been married for eight years. Whatever I had discovered about his affair suddenly felt insignificant compared to the dead woman lying on the floor.

“Love, I'm almost home. What's going on?” he asked as soon as he picked up.

I was breathing heavily, but I couldn't say the words. I didn't even know how to explain what had happened.

“Gwen? Is it the kids? What's going on? Are you all right?”

“She... I... she's not breathing.”

“Who? Gwen? Gwen!”

“A woman... the...” My voice broke. “Please come back to the apartment. I... I think I killed her!”

The last words came out as a scream.

“Okay, Gwen, listen to me. Calm down right now. Take a deep breath.”

“No, I... I killed her.”

“I know. I know, but listen to me. I'm almost home, so I'm reversing the car and coming there. Now, just take a deep breath for me and calm down.”

“I can't.”

How could I calm down? I was in the same room as a dead woman, a woman I had killed.

“Do it for me. Do it for the kids. Calm the fuck down right now!”

He shouted so loudly that I immediately obeyed. I took a few slow, deep breaths. I wasn't exactly calm, but at least I managed to stop whimpering.

“Now listen to me. Make sure no one enters that apartment until I get there. Understood?”

“Y-yes.”

My confirmation came with a frantic nod, even though he couldn't see me.

As soon as the call ended, I quickly deleted the call history. I had seen enough murder cases on television to know that investigators looked at everything.

I turned around. She was still there. Still bleeding.

And I couldn't even bring myself to touch her.

Then a crazy thought entered my mind. What if the police found my fingerprints?

I had to fix that.

I didn't know how, but I had to.

I started searching online, looking for ways to clean up a murder scene with things found around the house. Coincidentally, her kitchen had almost everything I needed.

I got to work immediately.

By the time I was done, she was still lying on the floor, but the apartment had been wiped down, including the door handle and the things I remembered touching.

My husband arrived around ten p.m.

But he didn't come alone.

Two men dressed in black hoodies followed him inside, each carrying a backpack.

“I tried to wipe the door handles and her phone,” I explained before anyone even asked. I had already assumed he brought the two men to help clean up the mess.

Roman called me to the side.

He looked at me for a moment before telling me to go to Maria's house and pick up the kids. Apparently, I had taken too long, so Maria had already taken them to her place.

I nodded. I didn't question him. I believed he was going to take care of everything.

I didn't even have the courage to ask him about the affair anymore. He didn't ask what I had been doing there either, so for some reason, the entire thing almost felt normal.

I left the apartment building, and one of the guards was waiting outside. He told me my husband had asked him to drive me home, and I simply got into the car without asking any questions.

We picked up the kids and went home.

The two boys took care of their little sister while I went to take a warm shower, desperately trying to wash away the memory of what had just happened.

When I finished, I made the kids noodles because I couldn't bring myself to cook. Even making something as simple as noodles felt difficult. I kept blanking out, my mind returning to the apartment and anxiously waiting for my husband to call.

Putting the kids to sleep wasn't easy either.

Blossom wanted attention. She cried for almost no reason, and I wasn't in the right state of mind to deal with her neediness.

So while the boys slept, I held her in my arms and stood by the large glass window, staring outside and waiting for any sign of my husband’s return.

It was one in the morning.

Then finally, his car pulled into the driveway.

I practically rushed to the door, wanting to be the first person he saw when he walked in.

“You're still up?” he asked as he removed his coat.

“What happened?” I asked immediately. “Is she really dead?”

I was still hoping for some kind of miracle.

“Answer me, Roman. Is she dead? Am I going to prison?”

“Why is Blossom up?”

He walked toward the kitchen.

He didn't see the plate of food I usually had waiting for him on the table, so he turned around.

“Where the hell is my dinner?”

I stared at him.

“Dinner? You're asking about dinner? Seriously?”

“Hey, listen. You killed her. I didn't. Why should I go to bed hungry when I did nothing?”

He reached for Blossom when she stretched her little arms toward him, then walked out of the kitchen while making silly sounds at her.

I followed him.

“What does that mean, Roman?” I demanded. “What do you mean I killed her?”

“The inspector handling the case asked that you go in tomorrow morning for questioning.”

I stopped.

“You called the police?”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

When he said he'd take care of it, I hadn't thought he meant calling the police.

“You made a mistake bribing the receptionist,” he said calmly. “She told the police about it, and as of now, you're already the suspect.”

He walked away with Blossom in his arms. But I couldn't move.

All I could hear were this words repeating inside my head.

‘You're already the suspect.’

‘You're going to jail.’

‘You're going to jail!’