On the day of my mother’s funeral, I found myself in the river – I don’t know if I accidentally slipped or was pushed on purpose: but when I miraculously got out of the water, I accidentally overheard a conversation between my husband and my best friend
My mother’s funeral passed in a blur. People spoke words of comfort, hugged me, some placed memorial dishes on the table, others cried quietly. I barely heard a thing.
Towards evening, the guests began to leave. The house became stuffy and oppressive. I wanted to get some fresh air, so I quietly went to the river.
The shore was wet and slippery after the rain. I was standing at the water’s edge when the ground suddenly shifted beneath my feet. I didn’t even have time to scream and a second later found myself in the icy water.
The current was incredibly strong. My dress was immediately pulled down, and my shoes made it difficult to move. For a few seconds, I was simply choking and thought I was going to drown.
But in my youth, I had spent many years swimming. That’s what saved me. Instinct kicked in faster than fear. I flipped over onto my back, kicked off, and swam toward the reeds growing near the shore. My fingers found tough stems. I grabbed hold of them and, with difficulty, pulled myself ashore.
I was lying in the wet mud, trying to come to my senses. It was then that I heard voices.
Someone approached the cliff right above my head. I cautiously raised my eyes through the reeds and froze.
It was my husband and my best friend.
They stood very close to the edge of the shore and looked at the water.
“She won’t swim out,” the husband said calmly. “Even experienced swimmers are unlikely to be able to get out.”
“What if it floats?” my friend asked nervously.
“It won’t float. And besides, everyone saw how she drank a little after the funeral. That’s why she slipped and fell.”
The friend chuckled quietly.
“Yes, she’s not a problem. I’ll say I saw her slip and fall. I’ll say I tried to help, but it wasn’t in time.”
“Exactly,” the husband replied.
It suddenly dawned on me that I had probably not fallen into the river by accident.
The friend was silent for a moment and suddenly asked:
— Okay, so what did you do about her mother’s death? Did you give a bribe?
The husband answered calmly, as if he was talking about something ordinary.
— Yes. Everything is under control. Everyone believed the heart attack version.
Everything inside me sank.
The friend laughed quietly.
“You promised to tell me everything when they were both in the afterlife. Now explain why you had to kill them both at once.”
The husband was silent for a few seconds.
– Because they knew a very important secret.
– And what kind?
I stopped breathing.
And then he told me something that sent a chill down my spine. This was why he’d gotten rid of my mother… and this was why he wanted to get rid of me.
The continuation of the story can be found in the first comment.
Shortly before she died, my mother called me and asked me to come over urgently. When I arrived, she was sitting in the kitchen in a robe, holding an old photograph.
“Do you remember my brother?” she asked quietly.
I remembered him vaguely. A tall man who carried me on his shoulders. He died when I was six.
Mom was silent for a moment and said:
“They helped him die. And I kept silent for almost forty years.”
She said her brother worked in the district administration and handled land registration. In the late 1970s, several influential people illegally registered large tracts of land in their own names. The papers were backdated, bearing forged seals and signatures.
He was the only person who knew the truth. He managed to take the real documents and hide them from my mother.
A month later, he was found dead on the train tracks. Everyone was told he’d been drinking and was hit by a train.
My mother kept quiet about it for almost forty years because she was afraid.
But recently, expensive cottages began to be built on that very land. The owner of the construction site turned out to be the son of the man who had once forged the documents.
Mom said she was being followed. Strange cars were appearing near the house.
“They found out,” she said.
Before I left, my mother said:
“I hid the documents. I won’t tell you the address. Look for them where we used to go when you were little. When you find them, hand them over to the court.”
I didn’t realize how dangerous it was back then. But somehow my husband found out about the documents. And now, listening to his conversation with my best friend, I finally understood the truth.
They killed my mother. And they just tried to kill me.