Chapter 2 Has my husband been dead for a month already

Chapter 2

I quickly told Clara about the situation.

Clara looked a bit tense but still comforted me thoughtfully.

I clenched her hand tightly, my fingertips devoid of any warmth.

At this point, my best friend was the only one I could rely on.

I told her my plan, but she shook her head in fear.

"Hannah, have you been too tired lately? Even the surveillance footage is there; how could it be fake?"

I knew she was right.

But every time this thought crossed my mind, the eerie scenes from that time would flash before my eyes.

"I have to follow him and see what he's really up to. Clara, if it turns out that I'm the one with the problem, having you by my side will keep me safe!"

Seeing my determination, Clara had no choice but to sigh, tie her flaxen hair into a ponytail, and say with determination.

"Alright! I'll join you in this madness one more time!"

My eyes welled up with tears, and I leaned gently on her shoulder.

I knew Clara would definitely help me.

Soon after, I took leave from my editor and secretly followed my husband in the car Clara lent me.

It wasn't until evening that Mathias, who claimed he had a seminar to attend, finally emerged from the school.

Ha, he even told me he was staying in the dorm to avoid disturbing me.

I gripped the steering wheel tightly and followed him immediately.

Mathias's car drove further and further away, eventually stopping at the entrance of a psychiatric hospital.

A psychiatric hospital? Could he have some mental illness?

Clara and I exchanged a glance and then sneaked into the hospital by climbing over the wall.

Perhaps it was because the place was used to being unguarded, our sneaking in went surprisingly smoothly, without encountering a single security guard.

We crouched to avoid the windows of the duty room and quietly slipped into the building.

But Mathias walked quickly, and we lost him as soon as we got inside.

In the darkness, I shuddered and clung tightly to Clara's sleeve, asking if she heard any strange sounds.

Clara just shook her head in confusion and looked at me with increasing concern.

"Hannah, have you not been resting well lately?"

I paused and massaged my aching temples.

Indeed, I hadn't slept well for days.

But I was also very clear that my condition hadn't reached the point of hallucinations.

Clara didn't say much more, just took out a spray bottle and spritzed some on my forehead.

"I get like this when I work overtime too. Here, this is what I often use; it might help."

The faint scent of mint calmed my nerves considerably.

We wandered around the hospital like headless chickens and unknowingly stumbled into the morgue.

The cold air from the mortuary cabinets made me want to flee.

But I felt a strange compulsion to open one and take a look.

Could it be... hidden here?

Just as my fingers touched the handle, footsteps suddenly echoed from outside the door.

Oh no! It's the security!

The sound grew closer, and there was nowhere to hide.

I scanned the room and spotted two ventilation ducts not far away.

They were very narrow but could barely fit one person.

I pointed to the other duct, signaling Clara to split up and escape. Without waiting for her response, I crawled into the duct.

After crawling through the duct for what felt like ages, I finally saw an exit.

In the dim light, I could make out the furnishings of the room.

It was clearly a records room.

An old-fashioned, dimly lit pendant lamp hung from the ceiling, indicating that this psychiatric hospital had a long history.

I calmed my pounding heart, quietly closed the door, and began to search the shelves one by one.

Most of the shelves were covered in a thick layer of dust, except for one that was recently polished.

My eyes quickly scanned from top to bottom, finally stopping on a blue file folder hidden in the lower right corner.

Seeing the familiar name on it, my breath caught, and I hurriedly opened it.

The patient had schizophrenia, accompanied by sleepwalking and violent tendencies...

I bit my lip, feeling a whirlwind of emotions.

I never expected that my husband had a hereditary mental illness!

Before I could recover from his deception, I saw an even more shocking note.

Died on... June 15th!

My eyes widened, staring at the four large characters written in red ink.

The handwriting was very sloppy, but the force was so strong that it went through the paper.

Today... is July 15th.

If the record was true, my husband had been dead for a month!

Then who was the person who had been with me all this time?