The Secret in the Sausage
Mom pushed at the rice in her bowl, but her eyes kept flicking toward Dad.
I poked at the greens on my plate, and it felt as if the air itself had frozen.
Your dad's been acting strange lately, like he's miles away from everything. Mom put down her chopsticks, her voice low but clear enough for Dad and me to hear.
Dad froze, and the braised pork on his chopsticks dropped back onto the plate with a soft clink.
He didn't look at Mom and mumbled, "There's just been a lot going on at the company. I'm exhausted."
Mom didn't push any further, only sighed softly. That sigh pierced my heart like a tiny, sharp needle.
At night, I got up to go to the bathroom.
Passing through the living room, I noticed a faint light on the balcony.
I quietly walked over and saw Dad standing on the balcony with his back to me, holding a cell phone.
The glow from the screen lit his face; I could see his brows furrowed as his fingers tapped rapidly.
I didn't know who he was texting, only that after sending the message, his eyes stayed fixed on the screen, as if waiting for a reply.
One minute, two minutes, five minutes... the screen never lit up.
Dad, frustrated, scratched his head, pulled a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it.
Smoke drifted across the balcony, making me cough without meaning to.
Dad spun around suddenly, and when he saw me, a flicker of panic flashed in his eyes. He quickly shoved his cell phone into his pocket and stubbed out the cigarette.
"Freya, why aren't you asleep yet?" His voice sounded a little unnatural.
"I'm going to the bathroom." I kept my head down, afraid to meet his eyes, and hurried past.
Back in my room, I lay on the bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.
The balcony light stayed on, and I could hear Dad coughing now and then, along with the sound of cigarette butts hitting the floor.
That night, Dad stayed on the balcony for a long time; the smell of smoke drifted into my room and didn't clear until dawn.
The next morning, I stepped out of my room with dark circles under my eyes.
Mom had already come back from grocery shopping, carrying several large bags filled with sausage.
"Mom, why did you buy so much sausage?" I asked, surprised.
"Isn't your dad fond of it? I bought extra so I can make it for him at every meal." Mom smiled, but the smile looked somewhat forced.
From that day on, there was sausage at every family meal.
Fried sausage, stir-fried sausage, steamed sausage—even sausage porridge for breakfast.
The whole house was filled with the smell of sausage. At first, it was pleasant, but after two or three days, just seeing the sausage made me nauseous.
That evening at dinner, Mom brought out yet another plate of stir-fried sausage.
I forced myself to pick up a piece and put it in my mouth, but after just two bites, I felt something hard inside.
I frowned and spat it out; when I looked at it in my palm, my heart instantly sank.
It was half an earring, silver, still coated with the sausage's grease.
Holding that half earring, my hand couldn't stop shaking.
Mom and Dad's eyes were fixed on my hand, and the atmosphere at the dining table grew tense again.
"Mom, this..." I looked at her, unable to finish my sentence.
Mom put down her chopsticks, came over, picked up the half earring, examined it carefully, and a flicker of panic crossed her face before she quickly regained her composure.
"Oh, this is my earring. I must have dropped it by accident while cooking yesterday. I probably wasn't paying attention when I was cutting the sausage." Mom smiled as she spoke, but no matter how I looked at it, that smile felt forced.
I looked at Mom, my mind swirling with doubts.
I've seen Mom's earrings before—they're always gold, never silver.
Dad sat nearby, his face pale, his eyes evasive, not uttering a single word.
I wanted to ask more, but seeing the pleading look in Mom's eyes, the words caught in my throat.
For the next two days, the family kept eating sausage at every meal, but whenever Mom made the sausage, she would deliberately avoid meeting Dad's and my eyes.
The doubts in my heart only grew deeper; I felt like something was being kept from me.
On the afternoon of the third day, Dad came home from work, sat down on the sofa as soon as he walked in, holding his cell phone, his face dark and troubled.
I walked over, wanting to ask what was wrong, but I saw the news on his phone screen: "A woman in this city has been missing for several days; her body was found today, with only a layer of human skin left."
Beneath the news was a photo of a woman. I stared at it, feeling she looked familiar, but I couldn't place where I had seen her before.
Dad suddenly stood up, trembling as he pointed at the sausage on the dining table. "That... that half an earring belongs to Grace Clark!"
I was stunned. Grace Clark? Who is she?
Mom came out of the kitchen, and when she heard Dad's words, she wobbled and almost fell.
"What... what nonsense are you talking about? Grace Clark?" Mom's voice cracked with tears.
"Grace Clark! The new employee at my company!"
"You forgot? Last time she came to our house to deliver documents, you even saw her!" Dad shouted excitedly.
"She has a small mole on her earlobe, I remember perfectly—she was wearing a silver earring!"
Mom's face turned pale, and she slumped into the chair, unable to utter a word.
Dad looked at Mom's expression, as if he'd suddenly realized something, then clutching his chest, he spat out a mouthful of fresh blood that splattered glaringly on the floor.
"Dad!" I screamed as I rushed over, steadying him.
Dad looked at me weakly, trying to say something, but then he fainted.
Mom and I hurriedly took Dad to the hospital. The doctor said Dad had been overwhelmed by sudden anger, triggering a heart attack, and needed to be hospitalized for observation.
After Dad was admitted, I stayed at the hospital to take care of him.
The next morning, Dad woke up, his face still pale.
He looked at me, his eyes full of exhaustion and pain: "Freya, I am sorry to you, and to your mom too."
"Dad, what exactly is going on? Who is Grace Clark? Did she really get killed?" I couldn't help but ask.
Dad sighed and slowly began to tell me about Grace Clark.
Grace Clark was a new employee who joined Dad's company three months ago. She had just graduated from college, was young and beautiful, highly capable at work, diligent and responsible, and quickly earned Dad's trust.
Dad often praised Grace Clark at the company and sometimes even entrusted her with important projects.
When Mom found out, she was very unhappy. She always felt Dad was too attentive to Grace Clark and suspected there was something improper between them.
One time, Grace Clark came to the house to deliver some documents. Mom, seeing that Grace was young and pretty, treated her coldly and even deliberately showed affection with Dad in front of Grace, trying to make her back off.
Grace seemed unaware of Mom's hostility and politely greeted both Dad and Mom.
Since then, Mom's suspicion of Grace grew deeper, and she often secretly checked Dad's cell phone.
On Dad's cell phone, there were many chat records with Grace—mostly about work, but occasionally they'd talk about small everyday things like the weather or food. It all seemed perfectly normal.
But Mom didn't see it that way; she thought Dad was talking to Grace Clark far too often, and there had to be something going on.
Several times, Mom argued with Dad about it, and each time he explained it was just a normal colleague relationship, but Mom never believed him.
Dad was helpless and tried to limit contact with Grace Clark outside of work, yet Mom still wasn't at ease and kept a close watch on his every move.
"I really just admire Grace Clark's work abilities—nothing more." Dad looked at me, his eyes full of hurt and grievance.
"But your mom just doesn't believe it. She's always convinced there's something going on between Grace Clark and me."
"Then how did Grace Clark's earring end up in the sausage? Did she really get murdered?" I asked again.
Dad closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "The news said she was murdered — only a layer of her skin was left. It was terribly cruel."
"As for the earring, I have no idea how it got into the sausage. Maybe... maybe your mom accidentally picked it up."
I stared at Dad, my mind swirling with doubt.
Why would Mom have Grace Clark's earring?
Does she have anything to do with Grace Clark's death?
These questions swirl in my mind, making me more and more afraid.
In the afternoon, Mom came to the hospital to see Dad.
As soon as she walked into the ward, Dad sat up excitedly, pointed at Mom, and shouted, "Was it you? Did you kill Grace Clark?"
Mom was startled by Dad's outburst, tears instantly streaming down her face. "What are you talking about? How could I have killed Grace Clark? Don't slander me!"
"Who else could it be? How did Grace Clark's earring end up in the sausage you made?"
"You must have poisoned her because you suspected something between me and Grace Clark!" Dad's anger surged as a dull ache began pulsing in his chest again.
"I didn't! That earring really fell in by accident—I didn't even know it was Grace Clark's!" Mom cried, trying to defend herself.
"Stop making excuses!" Dad said, getting out of bed to grab Mom.
I quickly stopped Dad. "Dad, don't get worked up—the doctor said you can't have too much emotional stress. Mom, don't argue with Dad. Let's talk about this calmly."
Mom wiped away her tears, pulled the half earring from her pocket, and placed it on the table.
"Look, this is the half earring. I truly didn't know it belonged to Grace Clark. If I had, how could I have put it in the sausage?"
Dad stared at the half earring, his eyes filled with pain and anger. "Stop pretending!"
"I remember it clearly—Grace Clark wore exactly this kind of silver earring, and she has a small mole on her earlobe that matches it perfectly!"
Mom froze, looking first at the earring, then at Dad; her lips moved, but no words came out.
Dad looked at Mom's face and became even more certain that Mom was the one who killed Grace Clark:
"Are you jealous of Grace Clark? Is that why you killed her? You're terrifying!"
"I didn't!" Mom screamed. "Do you think I wanted this? It's all because of you!"
"You're always with Grace Clark, treating her so well. How could I not be suspicious?"
"I secretly looked at your cell phone and saw how much you were chatting with her. It hurt me!"
"We were just talking about work! Why won't you believe me?" Dad shouted, "Just because of your suspicion, you think you can kill her at will?"
Mom suddenly fell silent, looking at Dad with eyes full of disappointment. "Do you remember the business trip you took last month?"
"You said you went for work negotiations, but later I found out Grace Clark went with you!"
"Did you two do something shameful behind our backs?"
Dad's expression changed, his eyes evasive. "I... Grace Clark and I only went together for work talks, nothing else."
"Nothing else? Then why did you lie to me? You said you went alone!" Mom demanded.
Dad lowered his head, his voice hoarse: "I didn't mean to lie to you. I was just afraid you'd overthink things, afraid you'd argue with me again."
"You've been going through menopause recently; your emotions are unstable. I didn't want to make you angry."
"So you think it's okay to lie? You think it's okay to go on a business trip alone with another woman?" Mom's emotions flared up again.
"Do you realize how much your lies have hurt me?"
"I worry about you every day—worry you'll leave me, worry you're with another woman. But you? You've been lying to me all along!"
Dad looked up, his eyes full of guilt as he stared at Mom. "I'm sorry, it's my fault. I shouldn't have lied to you."
"But Grace Clark and I are really just colleagues. It's nothing like what you think."
"I don't believe you!" Mom shouted. "Are you still going to deny it?"
Dad looked at Mom, suddenly seeming to make up his mind. He picked up his cell phone, ready to call the police.
"Since you won't admit it, then let the police investigate! I'm calling to report you for murder!"
"You dare!" Mom rushed over, trying to snatch Dad's phone.
Dad dodged away and quickly dialed the police: "Hello, police? I want to report a crime. I suspect my wife has killed someone..."
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