The Investigation and the Crushing Guilt
The police station felt sterile and unforgiving as Martin tried to explain what happened. “It was just a prank,” he repeated, hearing himself sound smaller and more pathetic each time. The detective stared at him, unimpressed.
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“You left your wife alone at a highway gas station at night,” he said slowly, “in a storm… for a joke?”
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The words hit Martin harder than the rain ever had. The detective replayed the station’s security footage: Elise stepping out from the pumps, wiping her eyes, slowly walking into the dark. No one else appeared in the frame.
She didn’t look back. Martin clenched his jaw, fighting the tremor in his voice.
“She wouldn’t have left me. Not for far.” But he didn’t believe himself anymore.
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