After my wife—who loved me more than life itself—was murdered, her body dismembered, our playful family dog had a sudden, bizarre change of heart. When I’d come home, he would grab my slippers and arrange them neatly by the door. When I’d sleep, he would gently pull the blanket over me with his teeth. When I’d watch TV, he would use his paws to pat my back, as if giving me a massage. These were all the little things my wife used to love doing. When my family noticed his strange new habits, they wept with joy. But I quietly called the butcher shop down the street. “I have a dog I need to get rid of. He’s yours for free. Just send someone over to take care of him.” 1 My wife, Evelyn, was what everyone would call a perfect spouse. In twenty years of marriage, she never once argued with me. No matter how late I came home, she’d be there, waiting under a single lamp with a hot meal on the table. When I was diagnosed with kidney failure, she donated one of her kidneys to me without a moment’s hesitation. Worried I’d feel guilty, she hid it from me for three whole years, a secret I only discovered during a routine check-up. She was the best person to me in the entire world. And this woman, who had given me everything, was murdered on my birthday. She was attacked on her way home, her body dismembered. Even in death, her severed right hand was still clenched tightly around the birthday present she had bought for me. Everyone knew how good she was. Her horrific death became the talk of the town. But the crime scene was a blind spot, with no cameras and no forensic evidence left behind. And Evelyn didn’t have a single enemy in the world. The killer was never found. While my mother-in-law, my son, and my brother-in-law spent their days weeping, mourning Evelyn’s tragic fate, our seven-year-old dog, Buddy, seemed to have a sudden awakening. He had always been a mischievous, hyperactive dog, but he became inexplicably gentle and obedient. He would have my slippers waiting by the door when I got home. He would tiptoe over and cover me with a blanket when I fell asleep on the couch. He would use his paws to gently massage my back when my old injury flared up. My family was overjoyed by Buddy’s transformation. They said he’d become enlightened, that he was taking care of me in Evelyn’s place. That’s when I quietly dialed the number for the butcher. “Are you still taking dogs at your shop?” I asked. “I have one here. He’s yours for free. Just send someone over to take care of him.” 2 I gave the man on the phone my exact address. Hearing this, my son, Alex, who was sitting on the sofa, snatched the phone from my hand. “Dad, what are you doing?” he cried, his voice frantic. “Buddy’s been so good! How could you do this to him?” My brother-in-law, Kyle, stared at me, bewildered. “Yeah, Mark, even if you don’t want him anymore, you could give him to a shelter. Why a butcher shop? Are you just going to let someone… eat him?” My mother-in-law rushed out of the kitchen. “Mark, did my daughter’s death break you? Are you not in your right mind? You and Evelyn always treated Buddy like your own child. Now that he’s acting so much like her, why on earth would you send him to his death?” I glanced at Buddy and said flatly, “Seven years was long enough.” The men from the shop were fast. When they arrived with a catch pole and a burlap sack, Alex panicked. “Dad, I’m begging you, please don’t send Buddy away!” he pleaded, tears streaming down his face. I looked at him, my voice cold and firm. “This dog cannot stay.” I turned to the men. “Take him.” As they moved toward the dog, Alex, his grandmother, and his uncle all jumped in front of Buddy to block them. Seeing this, I barked, my voice a weapon. “I SAID THE DOG CAN’T STAY, DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME?” The shout stunned them into silence. They had never seen me like this before—so cold, so severe. Even Buddy just stared at me, his eyes glistening with what looked like tears. While my family was still in shock, I personally grabbed Buddy and shoved him into the burlap sack. He didn't struggle or resist at all. After the men had taken him away, Kyle confronted me, his face a mask of grief. “Mark, no matter what, that was your dog! Yours and my sister’s, for seven years! How could you be so heartless?” My mother-in-law, her voice trembling with a mix of sorrow and concern, added, “Mark, even if looking at Buddy reminds you too much of Evelyn, even if you’re trying to escape the pain, you didn’t have to do that! What has gotten into you?” Alex stared at me for a long time, his own eyes welling up. “Dad, you must have felt it. Buddy was becoming more and more like Mom. Having him here, taking care of you in her place… you should have been happy. Why did you have to kill him?” Looking at their confused, heartbroken faces, I said only one thing. “Tomorrow, you’ll understand everything.” 3 The next day was Alex’s Ivy League acceptance party. All our relatives, friends, and neighbors were there, their conversations filled with a bittersweet nostalgia. “Evelyn planned this whole party for Alex a month ago. It’s a tragedy she couldn’t be here to see it.” “That’s right. Every dish, every banner… she designed it all herself.” “No wonder the family couldn’t bring themselves to cancel it, even with the pain of remembering her everywhere they look.” “Evelyn and Mark worked so hard for this. Their only dream was to see Alex get into a good university. I’m sure her spirit is here today, watching over him with pride.” The party was a grand affair, but because of what had happened with Evelyn and the dog, Alex, his grandmother, and Kyle were all wearing long faces, in no mood to celebrate. When I finally arrived, Alex, who had been listless all afternoon, rushed over to me. “Dad, just tell me. Why did you send Buddy to the butcher?” he demanded, his face gaunt, dark circles under his eyes. He clearly hadn't slept. “Does it have something to do with Mom?” I nodded. “Yes.” Hearing this, my mother-in-law’s expression soured with confusion. “What does sending the dog away have to do with my daughter?” Suddenly, her eyes widened. “Wait… do you know something about Evelyn’s death?” At this, Kyle grabbed my arm, his voice urgent. “Mark, my sister died so horribly, and the police have no leads. If you know something, you have to tell us!” It wasn’t just them. The other guests started to crowd around, their faces a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. And then, with all eyes on me, I calmly took out my phone and dialed 911. “Hello,” I said, my voice steady. “I’d like to turn myself in.” “I murdered my wife, Evelyn Miller.” 4 I hung up. The room fell into a dead silence. Everyone stared at me, their eyes wide with disbelief. A moment later, my mother-in-law’s lips began to tremble. “What… how is that possible?” she stammered. “Mark, you’re joking, right? This is some kind of sick joke?” Her face was ashen, her voice shaking as if she’d been dealt a physical blow. “Do I look like I’m joking?” I asked, my tone dead serious. My solemn expression was her answer. She staggered backward, nearly collapsing. Kyle caught her, his own voice choked with disbelief. “No. I don’t believe it. Mark, my sister was so good to you. You had no reason to kill her!” I didn’t explain. Instead, I reached into my bag and pulled out a blood-stained knife. “This is the murder weapon.” The room erupted. The people crowded around me gasped and scrambled backward, their faces pale with terror. Only Alex remained frozen, staring at me as if seeing a complete stranger. SLAP! My mother-in-law slapped me across the face, her voice a raw scream. “You monster! You animal! No wonder you had to get rid of the dog! You couldn’t stand the guilt, couldn’t face what you’d done!” Tears streamed down her face. “My daughter was thinking about your birthday present right up until the moment she died! In all these years, she never did a single thing to wrong you! Why would you kill her? Why would you make her die in such a horrible way?!” Kyle gripped my shoulders, his voice ragged with pain. “Do you have any idea what she went through? The day she donated her kidney, she bit her lip until it bled, but she still forced herself to get up and take care of you, just so you wouldn’t worry or suspect anything! She was a woman who could barely take care of herself, but for you, she learned to cook, she learned massage! She was terrified of pain, but she bore you a child, gave you a piece of her own body, and for twenty years, she made sure you never had to lift a finger at home!” “My sister gave you everything! Why did you kill her?!” Their cries moved the guests, who began to hurl insults at me. One of them even started a live stream, narrating my crimes to the world. “Breaking news, people! You remember that brutal dismemberment case that shocked the city? You’re not going to believe this, but the killer was her own husband! This woman was famous for how much she loved him! She married him without asking for a dowry, even used her life savings to help him start his business! He had a sensitive stomach, so she cooked him special meals every single day! She took care of everything so he never had to worry! And this is how he repays her? By murdering her and cutting her into pieces! He even sent the dog they raised together to a butcher! It’s probably already been served on someone’s plate!” The crowd was furious, their words a torrent of rage. The live stream viewership exploded. The comments were a wall of hate, all directed at me. I stood there like a lamb to the slaughter, condemned by a thousand voices. Soon, the police arrived. They secured the evidence and snapped handcuffs on my wrists. “You’re under arrest for suspicion of murder. You’re coming with us.” Just as they were about to lead me away, Alex suddenly ran forward, blocking their path. “Dad!” he cried out, his voice desperate. “You and Mom were always so in love. If she even had a headache, you’d be so worried you couldn’t eat or sleep. I don’t believe you killed her! You chose my acceptance party to confess like this… are you being threatened? Is there something you’re not telling us?” He stared at me, his eyes filled with a painful, stubborn hope, terrified that I was being framed. I looked back at him, my face a blank mask. “There’s no secret. No one threatened me.” “I killed your mother.” The light in my son’s eyes died. “I hate you! I don’t have a father!” He turned, ran to the open window beside him, and threw himself out. THUD. The sickening sound from the ground below turned every face in the room white with horror. And for the first time, tears streamed from my own eyes. Finally. It was almost over.
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