The room, which had briefly felt like it was shifting in my favor, suddenly turned cold again.
"If she was receiving instructions…" the officer had said.
But another officer quickly shook his head.
"Or," he added, his voice sharper, "she deleted the messages herself and is pretending not to know."
The hope that had just started to grow inside me shattered instantly.
"No," I said quickly, my voice trembling. "That's not true. I didn't delete anything—I didn't even see that message!"
"But you just said your phone went missing for hours," the officer replied. "That gives enough time for communication, deletion, and planning."
My chest tightened.
"That doesn't mean I did it," I whispered.
Dad let out a bitter laugh.
"This is exactly what I was saying," he said, turning to the officers. "Everything is pointing to her, yet she keeps denying it."
His words hit harder than anything else.
"Dad…" I called softly, my voice breaking.
But he didn't look at me.
"I trusted you," he continued, shaking his head. "I gave you everything you needed. And this is how you repay me?"
Tears rolled down my cheeks again, but this time I didn't even bother wiping them.
"I didn't do it," I repeated, weaker now. "Please… believe me."
But the room had already made up its mind.
The officer in charge straightened his posture.
"Given the evidence we have," he said, "your involvement cannot be ruled out."
My heart pounded violently.
"What does that mean?" I asked, though I already feared the answer.
"It means," he said firmly, "we will have to detain you for further investigation."
Everything around me went silent.
Detain?
"No—no, you can't," I stammered, shaking my head. "I didn't do anything!"
Dad didn't say a word.
That hurt the most.
"Sir," he said to the officer instead, his voice now cold and distant, "do whatever you need to do. If she is guilty, she must face the consequences."
It felt like the ground had been pulled from under me.
"You believe them?" I asked, turning to him, my eyes filled with disbelief. "You really think I would do something like this?"
He finally looked at me.
And what I saw in his eyes broke something inside me.
"I don't know what to think anymore," he said.
That was worse than anger.
It meant I had already lost him.
Two officers stepped forward.
"Please stand," one of them said.
My legs refused to move.
"I didn't do anything…" I whispered again, but no one responded.
One of them gently—but firmly—held my arm and helped me up.
Dad stepped aside.
He didn't even try to stop them.
I turned back one last time, hoping—just hoping—he would say something, anything.
But he didn't.
I was led out of the office, down a long corridor that seemed to stretch endlessly. Each step echoed loudly, as though announcing my shame to the entire building.
People stared.
Officers, visitors… strangers.
Their eyes followed me, filled with curiosity, judgment, suspicion.
I lowered my head, unable to bear it.
We stopped in front of a metal door.
One of the officers opened it.
"This is where you'll stay for now," he said.
Stay?
My heart dropped again.
Inside was a small, dimly lit cell. The walls were dull and stained, the air heavy and uncomfortable. There was a bench at the corner and nothing else.
"No…" I whispered.
"This is procedure," he replied.
"I've never—" My voice cracked. "I've never been in a place like this…"
He didn't respond.
Gently, they guided me inside.
The door shut behind me with a loud metallic sound.
Clang.
That sound echoed deep within me.
I was alone.
I stood there for a while, unable to move, unable to think properly. My mind kept replaying everything that had happened.
The accusation.
The slap.
My mother's words.
My father's silence.
I slowly sank onto the bench, wrapping my arms around myself.
How did my life turn into this?
Tears streamed down my face again, but this time, I didn't hold back.
I cried.
I cried for the pain, for the confusion, for the betrayal.
Hours passed.
No one came.
No one spoke to me.
At some point, an officer brought food, but I couldn't eat. My stomach was in knots, and the smell alone made me feel sick.
I pushed it aside.
Time felt slow… painfully slow.
The small window above let in just a little light, and I watched as it gradually faded, turning into darkness.
Night had come.
And I was still there.
Alone.
Cold.
Afraid.
I lay down on the hard bench, curling into myself, trying to find even the smallest comfort.
But sleep didn't come easily.
Every sound made me jump.
Footsteps. Voices. Doors opening and closing.
At some point, I finally drifted off, only to be pulled back into reality by the cold.
The next morning, I woke up feeling worse than before. My body ached, my head was heavy, and my eyes were swollen from crying.
I sat up slowly, trying to gather myself.
You have to be strong, I told myself. You didn't do anything.
But even that felt harder to believe now.
After some time, the door opened again.
"Come," an officer said.
I stood up immediately.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"For more questioning."
My heart sank again.
As I stepped out, I looked around, hoping—just hoping—to see my dad.
But he wasn't there.
That emptiness hurt more than anything else.
I was taken back into the same room from yesterday.
The officers were already waiting.
"Sit," one of them said.
I obeyed quietly.
They began again.
Same questions.
Same pressure.
But this time, it felt heavier.
More intense.
More accusing.
"Why didn't you report your phone missing immediately?"
"I thought I misplaced it!"
"Why is your number repeatedly found in a criminal's phone?"
"I don't know!"
"Who are you protecting?"
"I'm not protecting anyone!"
My voice broke again.
"I don't even know what's going on!"
They watched me carefully.
Every reaction. Every word.
As if trying to catch me in a lie.
Then one of them leaned forward.
"Listen carefully," he said. "If you're involved, this is your chance to say it now. It will help your case."
"I'm not involved," I said firmly, even though my voice shook.
Silence filled the room again.
Then—
"We're not convinced."
Those words hit like a final blow.
My heart sank deeper than it ever had before.
At that moment, I realized something terrifying.
This wasn't just about proving I was innocent anymore.
This was about surviving a situation where no one believed me.
And as I sat there, surrounded by doubt, fear, and accusations…
One question echoed louder than ever in my mind:
If I didn't do this…
Then who did?