The Perfect Wife’s Secret
932 Words
🔥 Episode 2
The police arrived faster than Tunde expected.
Too fast.
By the time he finished pacing the living room for the tenth time, a black SUV had already pulled up outside the compound. Two officers stepped out—one younger, observant, scanning everything… and the other older, slower, with the kind of eyes that missed nothing.
The older one introduced himself.
“Detective Ibrahim,” he said, flashing his badge briefly. “And this is Officer Bello.”
Tunde forced a nod. “Please… come in.”
As they stepped inside, something shifted in the air. The house no longer felt like his home.
It felt like a crime scene.
⸻
“Start from the beginning,” Detective Ibrahim said, settling into a chair like he had all the time in the world.
Tunde swallowed.
“My wife… Amara… she left this morning. I thought she went out like usual, but then my neighbor said she walked out without her car, and now her phone is off.”
“Did you argue?” Bello asked quickly.
Tunde hesitated.
A mistake.
Detective Ibrahim noticed.
“All couples argue,” Tunde said carefully. “It wasn’t serious.”
“What was it about?”
“Nothing important.”
Another silence.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Then—
“Can we see the bedroom?” Ibrahim asked.
⸻
Tunde’s chest tightened.
“Why?”
Ibrahim’s expression didn’t change. “Because that’s usually where the truth starts.”
⸻
Minutes later, they stood inside the bedroom.
And everything changed.
Bello was the first to notice it.
“Sir…”
He pointed.
Tunde turned.
And his stomach dropped.
The message.
Still there.
Bold.
Red.
Unmissable.
“NOW YOU SEE ME.”
⸻
Detective Ibrahim stepped closer to the mirror, studying it carefully.
“No signs of forced entry,” he murmured. “No struggle. No blood.”
He turned slowly to Tunde.
“This doesn’t look like a kidnapping.”
Tunde’s voice came out dry. “Then what does it look like?”
Ibrahim held his gaze.
“It looks like she left.”
⸻
The words hit harder than expected.
Left?
No.
That didn’t make sense.
If Amara wanted to leave, she would have said something… right?
Unless—
Tunde’s mind flashed back to the envelope.
The pictures.
The message.
She knows.
⸻
“I need to show you something,” Tunde said.
⸻
A few minutes later, the photographs were spread across the bed.
Detective Ibrahim flipped through them slowly, his face unreadable.
Bello let out a low whistle. “That’s… not your wife.”
Tunde said nothing.
“There are timestamps,” Ibrahim noted. “Different dates. Different locations.”
He looked up.
“How long has this been going on?”
Tunde hesitated again.
And again—it cost him.
⸻
“Answer the question,” Ibrahim said, firmer now.
“…A few months.”
Bello scoffed softly.
“A few months,” he repeated. “And your wife just happens to disappear today.”
Tunde’s temper flared. “What are you trying to say?”
Ibrahim didn’t raise his voice.
“I’m saying,” he replied calmly, “that husbands are usually the first suspects.”
⸻
The room went silent.
Tunde felt something cold settle in his chest.
“This is ridiculous,” he said. “Why would I call the police if I had something to do with it?”
Ibrahim shrugged slightly. “People do strange things when they panic.”
⸻
Before Tunde could respond, Bello’s phone buzzed.
He stepped aside, answered quickly, then turned back with a different expression.
“Sir… you need to see this.”
⸻
They moved downstairs.
Bello held up his phone.
“A security camera from the junction down the street,” he said. “We just got the footage.”
He pressed play.
⸻
The video was grainy, slightly blurred.
But clear enough.
Amara appeared on screen.
Walking.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
She wasn’t panicked.
Wasn’t confused.
She looked… calm.
Too calm.
⸻
Then something strange happened.
She stopped.
Right in the middle of the road.
And turned.
As if she knew she was being watched.
⸻
Tunde leaned closer.
His heart pounding.
“Zoom it,” he said.
⸻
Bello zoomed in.
The image sharpened just enough.
And that’s when they saw it.
Amara was smiling.
⸻
Not scared.
Not worried.
Smiling.
⸻
Then—
A car pulled up beside her.
Black.
Tinted windows.
She didn’t hesitate.
Didn’t look around.
Didn’t resist.
She opened the door…
And got in.
⸻
The video ended.
⸻
Silence.
Thick.
Heavy.
Unbearable.
⸻
“That’s not a kidnapping,” Bello said quietly.
“No,” Ibrahim agreed.
He turned to Tunde.
“That’s a meeting.”
⸻
Tunde shook his head slowly. “No… no, that doesn’t make sense. She wouldn’t just leave like that. Not without telling me.”
Ibrahim studied him.
“Are you sure you knew your wife?”
⸻
The question hit deeper than any accusation.
Because suddenly…
Tunde wasn’t sure anymore.
⸻
“Sir,” Bello added, “there’s something else.”
He pulled up another image.
A still frame from the video.
Zoomed further.
Enhanced.
⸻
Amara’s hand.
Resting on the car door.
⸻
There was something written on it.
Ink.
Dark.
Small.
⸻
Tunde squinted.
His breath caught.
“Pause… right there.”
⸻
Bello froze the image.
Zoomed again.
⸻
And then they saw it clearly.
Four words.
Written on her palm.
⸻
“CHECK HIS PHONE.”
⸻
Slowly…
Very slowly…
Both officers turned to look at Tunde.
- Writer
