Not again
Elara's POV
Two months had passed since the accident that claimed my parents. I still couldn’t believe they were gone, taken from me in a single, cruel moment.
Grief was my constant companion, a weight that wouldn’t lift no matter how much I tried to push it aside.
Liam stayed by my side through it all, his presence anchoring me when I felt like I might float away in my sorrow.
And then there was Sophia, my best friend. She was my rock, always ready with a comforting word or a shoulder to cry on.
Without them, I wasn’t sure how I would’ve survived those first harrowing weeks.
Liam was supposed to go on a business trip the week my parents died, but he postponed it to be with me.
I was grateful, even though I knew it was important work. Eventually, after months of delays, he decided he couldn’t put it off any longer.
The morning of his departure, I helped him pack, folding his shirts neatly into the suitcase while he teased me about my precision.
“You’re going to miss me, aren’t you?” he said, smirking.
I rolled my eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “Don’t flatter yourself, Liam. I’ll be fine.”
He pulled me into his arms. “I’ll miss you too, you know.”
The kiss we shared felt heavier than usual, like we both understood the significance of this goodbye.
As I waved him off, a pang of loneliness settled in my chest, but I pushed it aside. He needed to go, and I needed to be strong.
That evening, the dull ache in my head returned. I’d been ignoring it for days, convincing myself it was just stress. But when the headaches came with bouts of weakness, I knew I couldn’t avoid it any longer. Reluctantly, I decided to see a doctor.
I called Sophia, hoping she’d accompany me, but she had an excuse ready. “I’m so sorry, Elara. I’ve got this thing I can’t get out of. Can you manage?”
Disappointed but understanding, I assured her I’d be fine. As I drove to the hospital, my thoughts kept drifting to Liam. I missed him already, and the house felt emptier without him.
At the hospital, the doctor greeted me with a strained smile. Something about his demeanor felt hesitant, almost nervous.
“Dr. Morgan, is everything okay?” I asked.
He cleared his throat. “Of course, Mrs. Stone. Let’s run some tests and see what’s going on.”
The tests didn’t take long, but as I waited in his office for the results, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Dr. Morgan’s hands fidgeted with the papers on his desk, and he avoided meeting my eyes.
“If there’s something you’re not telling me, I….” I started, but my phone rang, cutting me off. The number was unfamiliar, but I answered anyway.
“Mrs. Stone? This is Mercy General Hospital. Your husband has been in an accident. You need to come immediately.”
My heart stopped. “What? No, that can’t be right…”
But the voice on the other end was insistent. I barely registered Dr. Morgan's concerned expression as I stumbled out of his office, my mind spinning.
The drive to the hospital was a blur. My chest felt tight, and the dizziness I’d been battling worsened, but I pushed through.
When I arrived at the hospital, a nurse guided me to the ward. “This way,” she said softly, her face betraying nothing.
The moment I stepped into the room, my knees buckled. Liam’s lifeless body lay on the bed, his face pale and still. I screamed, the sound raw and guttural, and then everything went black.
I woke hours later in a different hospital room, the sterile white walls closing in on me. My head throbbed, and for a moment, I couldn’t remember where I was. Then it hit me, Liam. The tears started again, hot and uncontrollable.
“Elara,” a familiar voice called. I turned to see Victor, Liam’s best friend, sitting by my bedside.
His dark hair was disheveled, and worry etched deep lines on his usually confident face.
“Victor?” My voice cracked. “What are you doing here? Where’s Liam?”
His expression faltered. “Elara, I…”
“No,” I interrupted, shaking my head. “It’s not true. It can’t be true. He’s fine. He’s…”
I ripped the IV from my arm and tried to stand, but Victor grabbed me. “Stop. You’re not well.”
“I have to see him!” I screamed, struggling against him. The door opened, and two policemen entered.
“Mrs. Stone, we need to ask you some questions,” one of them said, his tone firm but not unkind.
Victor’s grip on me tightened. “This can wait. She’s just lost her husband.”
“It’s okay,” I whispered, my voice hollow. “What do you need to know?”
At the police station, the questions came fast and relentlessly.
“Did you and your husband have any arguments recently?”
“No. We were happy. He was everything to me.”
“Do you know if he had any enemies?”
I shook my head. “None that I’m aware of. Liam was a good man.”
The officer’s eyes narrowed. “Mrs. Stone, your husband’s death wasn’t an accident. He was murdered.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. “No. That’s not possible. Who would…?”
The door opened, and a young man was led in. He was tall and lean, with unkempt hair and a nervous energy that made him fidget constantly. The officer turned to him.
“Do you know this woman?”
The man nodded. “Yes. She… she hired me to do it.”
My mouth fell open. “What? No! I don’t even know you!”
The man continued, his voice steady despite my protests. “She texted me the details. Said her husband was leaving the house and to make it look like an accident.”
I looked at Victor, who stared back at me, stunned. “Victor, you know me. You know I wouldn’t…”
The officer held up my phone. “We’ve gone through your messages, Mrs. Stone. Care to explain this?”
He read aloud: “He just left the house now. Make sure you do a clean job and end it.”
I felt the world tilt beneath me. “That’s not… I didn’t write that. I swear, I didn’t.”
The officer’s expression hardened. “Mrs. Stone. lying will only make things worse.”
Victor stepped forward. “Wait. This doesn’t make sense. Elara loved Liam. There’s no way she’d…”
But the evidence was damning. The messages were there, clear as day, and the man’s story matched the timeline perfectly. My protests fell on deaf ears as the officers led me away, my cries echoing in the sterile room.
“I didn’t do it,” I whispered, more to myself than anyone else. “I didn’t do it.”
