The husband, who had recently become a widower, stood confused in front of the altar, his eyes red and swollen from constant crying. A sudden heart attack had taken his wife without any prior warning.
In the chaos of mourning and the funeral, he tried to juggle all the responsibilities: receiving guests, handling arrangements, and preparing for the burial. He could barely cope with his own exhaustion.
On the morning of the funeral, he suddenly noticed his mobile phone was missing. He searched everywhere, asked relatives, but no one knew anything.
«I must have left it somewhere,» he thought, trying to focus on the ceremony.
The coffin was sealed and taken to the cemetery. Desperately, he had to pull himself together — for his daughter’s sake.
That evening, when only he and his little girl were in the cold house, a message arrived from his own number:
«Darling, I’m here. Don’t let them deceive you.»
He froze. A cold sweat ran down his back. Only then did it occur to him: maybe during the funeral, when he bent down one last time toward his wife, the phone had fallen into the coffin before it was closed.
But… who could have sent the message? His wife was dead — that was beyond any doubt. The doctor had confirmed it, and the death certificate had been issued.
Trembling, he replied:
– “Is it you?”
The response came instantly:
“Believe me. It wasn’t a heart attack. I was poisoned.”
It felt as though the ground had slipped from under his feet. To think of his beloved wife… who could have wished her harm?
With sweaty hands, he typed another question:
– “Who was it?”
A short, chilling message appeared on the screen:
“A relative… in the same house.”
He looked around: the empty living room, the candle flickering on the altar. His daughter was sleeping in the next room. Who could it be? His brother-in-law? A greedy relative eyeing the inheritance?
Then another message arrived:
“Open the wooden drawer… then you’ll understand everything.”
He rushed to the cabinet where he kept important documents. With trembling hands, he opened the drawer. Beneath the papers, he found a small glass bottle of pills, unlabeled, containing only a few white tablets.
He suddenly remembered the previous night: his wife’s cousin had offered her warm milk. She drank it… and less than an hour later, the crisis began that ended her life.
The man collapsed, drenched in sweat. The screen lit up one final time:
“Protect our daughter. Don’t let her be next.”
He sank to the floor, clutching the phone, tears streaming down his face. Outside, the wind howled through the cracks in the windows. The candle flickered, as if an unseen presence lingered nearby.
Deep in his heart, he knew: his wife was guiding him from beyond.
At dawn, he took the bottle of pills and the phone with the messages to the police. The investigation revealed the truth: it had been his wife’s cousin, driven by greed over the inheritance, who had orchestrated the entire scheme.
On the day of the trial, he stood before the court with his daughter by his side. The sky was blue, soft white clouds glided above, as if someone was smiling down from heaven.
He whispered to the wind:
– “I’ll raise our daughter, and walk the rest of the road for you.”
And in his heart, he heard her voice — clear and full of love:
“I’m still here, forever.”
