At the police station, the air smelled of stale coffee and disinfectant. He explained what happened, trying to keep his voice steady. “It was supposed to be a joke,” he said. “I came back, but she was gone.” The officer across the desk raised an eyebrow. “You left your wife on the highway at night—as a joke?”
He stumbled through the details—time, gas station, and phone calls. Everything made him look worse. The officer’s pen scratched slowly against the report. After an hour, another officer came, folding his arms. “Strange thing,” he said. “We pulled the CCTV. She left on foot, crying. You didn’t report her missing until now?” The silence that followed was heavier than guilt.