My Forensic Scientist Wife

I was in high school with Jonathan, and I had a crush on him for years.

We also ended up choosing the same major.

Later, Yvonne left the country, and he gave up on her.

After all, being a forensic scientist was a sure turn-off for anyone searching for a partner.

“Elena, my light has slipped from my grasp.” On the day Yvonne left the country, he drank himself into a stupor.

I looked at him and felt an unexpected sense of relief.

Jonathan was my light.

I lost my father when I was still very young. Since I was a loner, many people did not really like me.

There were plenty of rumors about my family background.

Some people claimed that my father was in prison, and others alleged that he was a murderer.

Whenever I asked my mother about where my father was, she would end up screaming at me hysterically.

“You have no father!” she once screamed shrilly at me, as if she wanted to tear me apart.

“You’re lying…” I mumbled. I could see the picture she kept so dearly, but I could not see the face of the man in the picture.

They did not even have a marriage certificate.

So, I gained yet another label: a child abandoned by her father.

Later, when my mother died, I tried to take a look at the picture again, only to discover that the man’s face had been torn clean off.

I moved and became Jonathan’s neighbor.

If not for Nina, I would have starved to death.

When someone lost the lunch money in class, everyone banded in together and blamed me for stealing it.

My supposed dark past also made me a suspect.

“It wasn’t her!” Jonathan stood up for me and told them where I had been when that had happened.

In the end, they found the culprit—a stray cat.

“Finding the truth and catching criminals is my dream.”

I did my best to chase after him and even surpassed him to run ahead and wait for him to fulfill his dream.

My teacher told me that I was his most talented student and would turn into a great forensic scientist in the future.

We became the best duo and uncovered the truth behind multiple cases.

Unfortunately, he was not my light alone.

Yvonne often came over to cook for him.

Compared to the silence between us, Yvonne seemed more like his family.

“Jonathan, I made soup for you. Try some.”

Yvonne’s hand was bandaged.

She gently skimmed the layer of oil on the soup out and put the bowl in front of Jonathan.

“Yvonne, what happened to your hand?”

“I twisted it by accident. It’s nothing.”

Jonathan looked touched and took the bowl, but he did not drink it.

I think he must have felt quite sick when he saw the meat inside the soup. It must have reminded him of my dismembered parts in the plastic bags.

A dark look flashed in Yvonne’s eyes.

“Thanks for cooking for me, Yvonne.” He set the bowl aside.

He realized something was different after a while.

“Did you change your perfume, Yvonne?”

Yvonne looked down a bit awkwardly. She looked up after a long pause. “Yes. I’ve recently come to like stronger scents.”

She wore a white tiered skirt and twirled in front of Jonathan. “Does it smell nice?”

With a faint smile, he patted her head affectionately.

“Yes.” It looked as though he was forcing himself to smile. Jonathan was not quite used to such heavily scented perfumes.

That night, Yvonne slept in my room.

She looked at my simple dressing table and closet disdainfully. “It’s no wonder you can’t make Jonathan love you.”

She grabbed a bottle of moisturizer and scoffed at it.

My friend packaged all of my skincare products. Since it was a simple moisturizer, she had packaged it in a simple bottle.

My friend was an aesthetician. Even though the bottle looked simple, the product inside was effective and only available to beauty salons. Using it gave me peace of mind.

“This doesn’t have any fragrance whatsoever. It’s no wonder it couldn’t mask the smell of death on you,” Yvonne spat.

Mockery flashed in my eyes. Scents affected a forensic scientist’s judgment.

More importantly, Jonathan did not like strong fragrances. He was also allergic to them.

I heard the sound of a door closing.

Just as I expected, Jonathan’s skin had broken out in hives.

I followed him to the pharmacy.

Even though he knew that he was allergic to stronger fragrances, he still had touched Yvonne.

I suppose, in that regard, Jonathan and I were similar to a certain degree.