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Marcus slowly made his way to the morgue, each step feeling heavier, as if he were walking on shattered pieces of his own despair.
He sat beside my body, silently gazing at me, his eyes filled with an unbearable sorrow and regret.
He sat there for an entire day, as if trying to etch my image deep into his memory.
He reached out, gently caressing my cheek, as if he believed his touch could wake me
from my eternal slumber.
His fingers brushed across my cold skin, and the pain in his heart grew even more
intense.
“Caroline, why did you have to leave me?” His voice was hoarse, choked with grief.
His gaze fell upon the scar on my leg – a
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place where I had once taken a bullet for him.
He remembered vividly that dangerous moment and how I had shielded him without hesitation.
“I should have protected you. I failed you.” His s voice was filled with regret and guilt.
During the day, Madeline came by multiple times, speaking to him softly, trying to coax him into leaving the morgue.
Marcus, however, remained silent, responding only with the weight of his
sorrow.
It wasn’t until Madeline collapsed again that Marcus reluctantly left.
He rushed her to the hospital, carrying her, then quietly sat in the corner of her hospital room, waiting.
When Madeline woke up and saw Marcus sitting nearby, her eyes sparkled with
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delight.
“Marcus, don‘ t worry. I’ll help you find
clues. Your wife died so tragically, we can’t let her death go in vain,” she whispered gently.
Marcus shook his head and, in a cold tone, replied, “Just rest. Every time you faint, I end up having to take care of you. Don’t make things harder.”
Madeline paled at his words,
unaccustomed to such indifference from Marcus.
The unease and disappointment inside her began to grow.
She wanted to say more, but Marcus s next statement left her speechless:
“Besides, I think Caroline wouldn’t want
to see us together.”
Yes, I really didn’t want to see them together.
But now that I’m dead, whether they are
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or aren’t together doesn’t make a
difference to me.
I watched them with cold detachment, feeling increasingly indifferent.
Back at the station, Marcus called for a team meeting. His expression was resolute and determined. He was set on finding my killer, to get justice for me.
“Pull a forensic pathologist from the neighboring division. Madeline is unwell, so she won’t be involved in this case.”
His voice was calm and collected, as if he had buried all his emotions deep within.
Soon, a new forensic pathologist arrived to assist with the autopsy.
I watched as they examined my body, and the button inside my stomach was discovered.
That button was the only clue I managed to leave behind when I, in a desperate
moment, broke free and grabbed at
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Madeline, tearing the button from her clothing.
I had swallowed it in secret, hoping it would be found.
Lobserved silently, emotions swirling within me.
I wondered how Marcus would feel when he realized that the button belonged to his childhood friend.
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