Inside the meticulously organized folders, each labeled with a date, I discovered images that shattered any illusion I had left about the man I once loved. Faces of other women stared back at me from the screen, their eyes closed in forced repose, just like mine in his recent photos. Some of them I recognized from our neighborhood or social gatherings—women who I’d exchanged pleasantries with, never suspecting the horror they too had endured.
The gravity of the situation was overwhelming. My heart ached with betrayal and fear, but I knew I couldn’t afford to succumb to panic. Every second counted, and I had to make sure that this nightmare ended. Quickly, I transferred the incriminating files onto a USB drive, my hands trembling. I needed evidence, something tangible to take to the authorities.
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