Love Language

Three months after my ex-boyfriend was murdered during a home invasion, I finally unlocked his cloud account. I found a single draft email, timestamped 3:12 AM—the exact minute the coroner said he died. The subject line was empty. The body contained only a string of the pet names we used to call each other: "Honey... Babe... Rose... Kiss... Hug..." I broke down sobbing, comforted to know his final thoughts were of our love. But when the lead detective saw the screen, he didn't cry. He turned pale, cursed under his breath, and immediately bagged the phone as key evidence.