(02
There’s a small mole above and slightly to the left of my right earlobe, usually hard to notice.
But Paul knows.
When we were passionately in love, he always loved to kiss my ear from behind.
He’s very familiar with this mole.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
Would he notice?
He must bring the killer to justice, or else, the killer’s next target will be him.
But Paul’s eyes were calm, his tone steady.
“It’s a clue, but it’s still difficult to confirm the identity of the deceased based solely on this.”
Billy nodded in agreement. “Check nearby missing persons, but the top priority is still to find the original crime
scene.”
Did Paul forget?
Or was he unwilling to recall the bits and pieces related to me?
I’m getting anxious.
There was no time.
I was afraid that villain would come after him.
The efficiency of the police station is very high; they checked all nearby missing persons, but none matched my description.
When I Die, He Still Doesn’t Love Me
Billy had to expand the scope.
As their investigation veered further off track, Kyra Dixon appeared. She’s Paul’s senior schoolmate and dream girl.
She works as a famous sketch artist.
Paul showed a gentle smile and affectionately rubbed Kyra’s head.
“Thanks for your hard work.”
Kyra tied her hair with a headband and efficiently took paper and pen to start working.
I saw the infatuation in Paul’s eyes.
My heart sank gradually.
No matter what Kyra asked, Paul would patiently and gently reply.
In front of Kyra, he shed all his indifference and showed ample patience.
Kyra sketched the criminal’s appearance with a pen while chatting with Paul.
“It’s my fault for yesterday’s incident. If I hadn’t accidentally tripped and hurt my foot, she wouldn’t have been so angry.”
Paul chuckled disdainfully, his voice full of scorn.
“What does that have to do with you? She’s petty and malicious. I just took you home to get some medicine, and she threw a fit, breaking things. She’s always been like this since childhood, with a bad temper and venomous!”
I felt like I was floating in mid–air, a tearing pain in my soul as if I had gone back to yesterday afternoon.
Paul thought I was throwing a tantrum and breaking things.
He was wrong!
That was my last cry for help!
It was me trying my hardest, making a sound hitting the wall!