Today, I got a call.
It was my husband on the other side, crying softly, whispering, “I love you, I miss you, jaan.”
His voice broke, and for a moment I felt warmth fill me, almost amused by how desperately he said it. But then, his next words froze my blood.
"Won’t you look beautiful lying in a coffin, jaan?"
A shiver raced down my spine.
"I would love to hear you scream… while I bury you alive."
My breath hitched I hung up the call.
.
.
.
.
.
Heart pounding, stumbling towards the kitchen. My hands trembled as I yanked open the freezer—
I exhaled, finally steadying myself. There he was—my husband, lying deep in his eternal sleep. I knelt beside him, holding his cold, lifeless hand, caressing it with a faint smile.
"Even from hell, you try to scare me? Still calling me…?" I whispered.
The silence pressed against me—so heavy, I swore I could hear him laugh.
