Link to the previous part :
Date : 19th June 2015, Friday.
When a wife goes missing, her husband is often the prime suspect in her disappearance.
This is the current situation. I haven’t heard from her nor seen her for two big days. The last word I heard from her was ”okay.” Not even a “Bye Bye ” or “Take care” or “Love you.” She is beautiful, tender, yet brave. Her eyes are enough to make any man go on his knees, her lips naturally have the most gorgeous shade of pink, eyebrows enough to match the golden ratio of beauty, long and slender neck and a perfect stature to remain active throughout. Her energy levels are more than mine, feminine boldness to give me courage, and motherly care to give me love. She has gone through a lot in life, and has always been a fighter. She’s never expressive, and her pain remains with her heart and Explicitly Expressed-her personal diary.
Isha is her world, and she’s my world, my everything. Her absence has altered my life, because her presence added so much meaning. I would never think of leaving her, abusing her or upsetting her. But the cops have ranked me first in the list of suspects. Nothing can hurt a lovable husband than being a prime suspect in his wife’s disappearance or killing. Generally, I don’t force her to let things out, because she is what she is. But inside, I doubt how many times she’s been assaulted, followed and abused. I know she’d face them with a strong mind, but many a times I get worried. Not because she’s attractive, but she’s unfazed about things. The only thing I know was the Gaurav incident. And that was horrible enough to not let me sleep. How much he had abused her ? Damn. I can’t even imagine.
I had informed the cops day before yesterday at around 11:58 pm. I tried her phone once, but she couldn’t pick it up. A switched off message would mean bad things, but this one made me anxious. The next day morning cops had barged into my home and asked a series of questions to all of which I had answered truthfully. Why would I even lie ? The final question put me off. I felt it was quite irrelevant. Affair with someone else ?
They had messed up with Riya’s shelves, her bed and her private bureau. Not once have I tried to interfere with her private stuff. They tried tracking locations and all of them only deviated us from the track. They tried her number twice, the first time it was a signal problem, and the second time it was switched off. For the first time I tried searching for her diary, and I was pissed to realise that she had taken that too with her. Fuck.
20th June 2015, Saturday.
I had received a call from an unknown number last night. Hope. I picked and said with a trembling voice, “Hello ?”
“Hello ?”, the voice sounded familiar.
(To be continued…)