My Husband Doesn’t Exist Chapter 06

My Husband Doesn’t Exist Chapter 06

I killed Jenna? 

And took her apartment? 

That’s impossible. 

My brain short–circuited. 

A high–pitched ringing filled my ears. 

“That can’t be true… that’s my apartment!” 

“I talk to my husband every day when I get home.” 

“The speaker plays his voice.” 

“He tells me welcome home every single night.” 

I thrashed against the restraints. 

The metal chair scraped across the concrete floor 

with a grinding shriek. 

“Derek can back me up!” 

“Derek from downstairs, he came to complain all 

the time!” 

“He said my husband was too loud chopping 

meat.” 

“He said we were rocking the bed in the middle of 

the night.” 

“Go ask him!” 

The younger officer, the one taking notes, looked 

1. up. 

He clicked his pen shut. 

“Derek Hollins did call the police.” 

“But the reason he called was never about a rocking bed. And it was never about chopping 

meat.” 

The officer pressed play on the body camera footage sitting on the table. 

An audio recording filled the interrogation room. 

Derek’s voice. Frantic. Furious. 

[Officers, you gotta do something about the woman upstairs!] 

[She’s up in the middle of the night every night. 

mopping the goddamn floors!] 

[Banging on the ground nonstop. It’s impossible to 

sleep!] 

[And today it’s even worse. There’s a dead–animal 

smell leaking out of her place through the pipes 

into my kitchen!] 

[I went up and knocked. She wouldn’t open the 

door. She’s in there by herself talking to thin air, 

laughing and yelling.] 

[Like she’s possessed or something!] 

The recording ended. 

The interrogation room plunged into silence. 

No rocking bed. 

No husband thrashing through a nightmare. 

Just me. 

Alone in an empty apartment in the middle of the 

night. 

Mopping. Pounding the floor. 

I sat frozen in the chair. 

Cold sweat dripped from my forehead and landed 

on the handcuffs. 

The older officer pulled out a printed forensic 

report, a screenshot of a text message conversation, and pushed it in front of me. 

“Jenna Farrow. Female. Twenty–six.” 

“This is the evidence that for the past six months, 

you have been using her phone to communicate 

with her family.” 

I stared at the paper. 

A color photograph was printed on it. 

That beautiful, radiant face, smiling so brightly it 

could break your heart. 

My best friend. Jenna. 

“No… Jenna called me last night.” 

“She stayed on the phone with me while I fell 

asleep.” 

I trembled as I protested. 

Instinctively, I reached for the phone that should. 

have been in my pocket. 

“Don’t bother looking.” 

“Jenna’s phone is right here.” 

The older officer produced a clear evidence bag. 

He dropped it on the metal table. 

Inside was an iPhone with a shattered screen, 

completely bent and mangled. 

“Six months ago, you invited Jenna Farrow over 

under the pretense of celebrating her birthday.” 

“That night, you took a kitchen knife and hacked 

through the back of her neck from behind.” 

The officer held my gaze. 

His voice grew heavier with every sentence. 

“After you killed her, you took her phone.” 

“You used her fingerprint to unlock it.” 

“For the past six months, you’ve been sending messages back and forth between her phone and 

your old one. Pretending she’s still alive.” 

“You’ve even been using Jenna’s iMessage 

account to text her parents. Reassuring them 

everything is fine.” 

“Whenever they called or tried to video chat, your 

immediately declined and texted back: busy at 

work, traveling overseas, bad signal.” 

“You managed to fool her family for six months. 

using nothing but text.” 

“You played both roles yourself.” 

“Comforted yourself.” 

“Kept yourself company.” 

“Your so–called staying on the phone while you 

slept? You dialed Jenna’s number, left her phone 

on the living room couch, and went to bed in the 

other room.” 

“You lay there listening to a dead line. And 

convinced yourself someone was there.” 

I was hyperventilating. 

My chest heaved. 

“Then what about Kyle?” 

“The man in the blue shirt on the security camera. 

He walked into the building!” 

The older officer gave a cold, humorless laugh. 

“That man was not Kyle Prescott.” 

“The man in the blue shirt and sunglasses on the security footage is Jenna Farrow’s older brother. Garrett Farrow.” 

“For six months, Jenna never answered a voice call or video chat. She only ever responded with text. That made him suspicious.” 

“Especially a few days ago. Their mother’s 

birthday. Jenna sent nothing but a cold text 

message and a money transfer. Not even a voice 

note.” 

“Garrett knew something was wrong. He had someone trace the IP and location data from 

Jenna’s phone.” 

“He discovered that his sister, supposedly traveling abroad, had her phone pinged to the 

same apartment. For six months. It never moved.” 

“He came here today specifically looking for 

Jenna.” 

“On his way upstairs, he ran into Derek Hollins in 

the stairwell.” 

“Derek assumed he was your mysterious husband 

and vented at him.” 

“Garrett played along. Confirmed the identity. He was hoping to get inside and look around without 

tipping you off.” 

“But he never made it through the door. The 

moment he reached the sixth floor, he smelled it. 

Seeping through the cracks.” 

“Garrett didn’t go inside. He walked straight back downstairs and called the police from the lobby.”