The Case of the Lost Loves

Detective George Lee came to Mark Lau's apartment after filing a missing person's report on Mark's estranged wife. Susan Lau had left, leaving a spouse with more than a few lost hairs after a typical love struggle.

George was a bona fide skeptic. As he examined the flat, his eyes took over the surroundings with studied thoroughness—the uneasy stillness and the false grin on Susan's portrait, her eyes too lifeless. The weight of his intuition weighed on him hard—this was more than a missing person's case. It was darker than that—several shades darker.

"Tell me about your quarrel," George addressed Mark with a hard glare.

"We fought, but she wouldn't leave. Just wouldn't." Mark stuttered, his eyes fixed to the floor.

"Is there anyone else who knows about this?"

"No," Mark's voice was a touch too sharp.

George let the stillness that followed stretch. He moved to a shelf where there was a concealed notebook under heavy volumes of encyclopedias, loaded with sloppy written notes, all demonstrating the strain broiling in a delicate relationship.

"I'm sorry—"

But the handwriting wasn't Mark's wife's.

"I'm aware of what you told me," George stopped Mark with seasoned detective flair, all the while skimming through the notes. The apologies, the desperation—it was all there.

"I didn't mean to..." Mark began but paused, his voice shaking.

"Didn't intend to? What happened, Mark?"

"She wouldn't... just wouldn't leave... the others... they were like this too..."

Detective Lee stared at Mark's distressed expression and halted his questioning. Something much more than what a spouse didn't want to know was hidden deep.

George's eyes narrowed. His brows wrinkled as the pieces of the case fell into place, aligning in a manner that made his stomach churn. "The others... how many, Mark?"

Mark shook his head, his hands trembling. "I really didn't know what to do when they informed me... I never intended things to go this way... She wouldn't go."

George's heart thudded as the last piece fell solidly, albeit awkwardly, into place. "You never wanted her to leave, did you, Mark? You never let any of them leave."

A chill swept through the room as Mark sank into a chair, the weight of his secrets crashing down. "I loved them too much," he whispered, the confession escaping like a breath held too long.

George's instincts screamed. He stepped back, the implications of Mark's words echoing in the silence. "You loved them so much you trapped them—emotionally, mentally. You thought love could hold them."

Mark's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I thought... if I just tried harder, they’d stay. I didn’t want to be alone."

“Alone?” George pondered, the truth dawning like a storm cloud. “You’ve taken their choices away.”

The apartment felt smaller, suffocating as the detective realized the darkness lurking behind closed doors—a cycle of obsession masked as love.

“Where is Susan, Mark?” George demanded, voice low but firm.

Mark's trembling ceased. He met George's gaze, and for a fleeting moment, clarity broke through the haze of fear. “I didn’t mean to... but she was going to leave me. I couldn’t let that happen.”

In that moment, George understood; this was not just a missing person case. It was a desperate plea for help hiding beneath layers of twisted affection. The true crime was not just in the disappearance but in the suffocation of love itself.

“Mark,” he said quietly, “it’s time to face what you’ve done.”