The Painful Truth

In the cold, dimly lit interrogation room of the police station, a stark fluorescent light buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows across the sterile walls. The air was thick with the scent of disinfectant and the faint echoes of distant voices and clattering keys. Lydia's heels clicked sharply against the linoleum floor as she was escorted to the interview room, her face pale and drawn. She had expected Alex to come—hoped for it, even—but now that he was here, sitting with a grim expression on his face across the metal table, the reality of the situation settled heavily on her shoulders.