The woman he destroyed, The mystery he’ll never solve

I woke to an empty bed. Caleb had already left. There was a note on the counter.

Working late tonight. Don't wait up. -C

I crumpled it and threw it in the trash.

My phone buzzed with a text from my mother.

Good morning, sweetheart! Just checking in about anniversary plans. Four years! So proud of you two. Call me when you can. Love, Mom.

I stared at the message, thinking about my mother, Claire Elliott, the famous author of the "Ellie's Adventures" series. She'd written thirty-two books about a perfect little girl who solved mysteries and always knew the right thing to do. That little girl was based on me, my childhood, my life, all of it packaged and sold to millions of readers who thought they knew me.

But they didn't know anything. I deleted the text without responding, then pulled out my journal and kept writing.

September 20th. He came home late again. Said it was a department meeting. But I know where he was. I know who he was with. He grabbed my wrist this morning when I asked him about it. Left marks. Then he apologized. Brought me coffee. Kissed my forehead. Like that makes it okay. Like I'm supposed to forget. But I'm not forgetting. I'm documenting everything. Every lie. Every bruise. Every moment he thought I was too weak to fight back. One week left. Then he'll see how weak I really am.

I closed the journal and hid it deeper in the closet this time. Behind the winter coats where he would never look.

Then I opened my laptop and kept researching. How to stage a disappearance, How to plant blood evidence, How to make it look real.

I read for hours. I learned about abandoned cars and missing person investigations also learned how to disappear.

By noon I had a plan and by evening I had a timeline. By the time Caleb came home smelling like perfume and lies, I had everything I needed.

He kissed me on the forehead. "Sorry I'm late, babe. You know how it is."

"I know exactly how it is," I said.

"I'm going to take a shower," he said.

I watched him walk away. Counted to ten. Then I pulled out my phone and took screenshots of his text messages to "M" that I'd found weeks ago when he left his phone unlocked.

Miss you. Can't wait to see you tonight.

She doesn't suspect anything. We're good.

I'll leave her eventually. Just need more time.

I saved every screenshot to my hidden folder. The one labeled "Tax Documents 2019" that he'd never open.

Evidence. I was building a case.

Caleb came home after midnight as usual. I heard his keys in the lock and I was already awake, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.

He stumbled into the bedroom. His shirt was wrinkled. He smelled like perfume. Not mine.

"Hey babe," he said. His words were slightly slurred. "You awake?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry I'm late. Got caught up talking with some colleagues after the department meeting." He pulled off his shirt and tossed it toward the hamper.

I sat up. "Caleb."

"Hmm?"

"There was a photo posted today. You and some girl at The Riverside Tavern."

He froze for just a second. Then he laughed. A dismissive one.

"Oh that. Yeah, she's a student. We were discussing her thesis." He climbed into bed. "Why? Are you keeping tabs on me now?"

"People are talking."

"People always talk." He rolled toward me. His hand found my waist. "You know how small towns are. Everyone's bored so they make up drama."

"It's not made up, Caleb. I saw the photo."

His hand tightened on my waist. "What are you trying to say, Elara?"

"I'm saying it looks bad."

"Looks bad?" His voice changed. Got harder. "So you're accusing me of something?"

"I'm not accusing…"

"Because that's what it sounds like. You're calling me a liar." He sat up now. Loomed over me in the dark. "After everything I've done for you. I brought you here. I gave you a home. And this is how you thank me? By accusing me of…"

"I'm not accusing you of anything," I said quickly. My heart was racing. "I just think maybe you should be more careful about…"

"More careful?" He laughed again. Cold. "You know what your problem is, Elara? You're paranoid. You see things that aren't there. You always have been."

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" He leaned closer. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. "You've been different lately. Distant. Cold. Maybe if you made more of an effort, I wouldn't have to spend so much time at work."

"That's not…"

"I'm tired." He lay back down. Turned away from me. "I don't want to fight about your insecurities. Goodnight."

I sat there in the dark. My hands were shaking.

This is what he did, Twisting everything. Made me doubt myself and made me feel like I was the problem.

I woke to find Caleb already up. He was in the kitchen making coffee. When I came downstairs he smiled at me, like last night never happened.

"Morning, beautiful." He handed me a cup. "Sleep okay?"

I took the coffee. "Fine."

"Listen, about last night." He touched my face gently. "I'm sorry. I was stressed and I took it out on you."

"You know I love you, right?" His thumb stroked my cheek. "It's just been a lot at work and sometimes I forget how lucky I am to have you."

This was the pattern. Cruelty followed by sweetness, hurt followed by apology. Over and over.

"I know," I said.

He kissed my forehead. "I have to get to campus. But tonight, let's do something nice. Just us. Okay?"

"Okay."

He left and I pulled out my phone and opened my photos, scrolled back to three days ago. There was a bruise on my upper arm, from when he grabbed me during our last argument and saved it to my hidden folder.

Then my phone buzzed, another message from the unknown number.

Saw Caleb this morning. He was smiling, probably thinking about last night. With me. Not you. When are you going to accept that you've already lost?

I stared at the message. Mila. It had to be Mila.

I took a screenshot and saved it.

Let her think she was winning.

I was in the bedroom when I heard Caleb come home early, I heard him downstairs.

My heart stopped. Caleb wasn't supposed to be home for hours, He told me he had evening classes until nine.

"Elara?" His voice floated up the stairs. "Babe, you home?"

I pressed my hand to my mouth, trying to steady my breathing. Had he been watching the apartment? Did he know what I was planning?

"Yeah," I called back, my voice barely steady. "I'm upstairs." I heard him climbing the stairs. Each footstep like a drumbeat.

I quickly checked the closet one more time, the journal was hidden.

But then the corner of my laptop was still open on the bed. The screen dark, but not closed.

The screen I'd been using to research how to stage a disappearance. How to plant blood evidence, how to make it look real.

Had I closed those tabs?

I couldn't remember.

I lunged for the laptop, my fingers trembling as I reached for it.

The door opened, Caleb stood in the doorway, and he was smiling.

But his eyes weren't on me.

They were on the laptop in my hands.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

And in that moment, I realized I'd made a terrible mistake