CHAPTER 5

My mind was spinning, unable to process what he had just said. I wanted him to tell me it was all a lie, but deep down, I knew it was true. Stunned and in disbelief, I began to run towards my house. As I approached, I saw two police cars and an ambulance parked outside. My heart pounded as I saw a hand sticking out from beneath a blanket, the same hand that wore the ring we had both placed on each other's fingers. Long, blood-soaked hair spilled out from under the blanket.

I stood there, frozen, staring at her body in disbelief. I wanted her to wake up, to tell me this was just a prank, but it wasn't. I grabbed her hand and began to cry, but something felt wrong. Her hand was cold, lifeless. It was like she wasn't mine anymore. Desperation clawed at me.

"I need to see her face," I stammered, knowing it was pointless but unable to stop myself.

The officer nearby hesitated but then nodded, uncovering her face. Olivia lay there, devoid of her usual smile. My heart shattered. A guttural cry escaped me, raw and agonized. I cried like a maniac, my sorrow so intense that I thought I might die as well. The pain became too much, and I fainted.

When I awoke, I found myself in a hospital room, the events of the previous day still a nightmarish blur. It felt like everything had been ripped away from me. A nurse entered, her expression somber.

"The doctor wants to see you in the morgue," she said gently.

Numbly, I followed her. In the morgue, they asked for my permission to perform an autopsy. I nodded, barely processing their words. There was something nagging at the back of my mind, something I was forgetting.

"Doctor," I said suddenly, my voice hoarse, "what about my child?"

The doctor's face fell, and he looked at me with a mix of sympathy and fear.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Harry," he said softly. "We couldn't save him."

His words hit me like a freight train. I looked at him, seeing his fear of my reaction, but I felt only a hollow emptiness. I walked over to him and gave him a hug, feeling the need for human connection, for some form of solace.

"Thank you," I whispered. "Goodbye."

I provided all the necessary information and left, heading back to my house with a single, burning purpose: to find the truth.