CHAPTER 2: WHAT WAS BURIED WRONG
CHAPTER 2: WHAT WAS BURIED WRONG
The priest lowered the ring slowly.
“No one reopens a grave without reason,” he said carefully. “Only family. Or authority.”
His eyes lifted to the widow.
“And you are neither of the deceased’s first wife’s family.”
A murmur ran through the mourners.
The widow finally spoke, voice sharp but unstable.
“He asked me to handle everything after his death.”
The poor woman let out a soft, broken laugh.
Not mocking.
Just exhausted.
“Did he also ask you to erase her?”
Silence snapped again.
The widow turned sharply.
“That woman was gone from his life—”
“No,” the priest interrupted.
He looked down at the ring again.
“This wasn’t removal.”
A pause.
A heavier one.
“This was disturbance.”
The words settled like dirt falling back into an open grave.
The poor woman stepped closer to the coffin.
Rain slid down her face, but her voice stayed steady.
“You didn’t just bury her wrong,” she said quietly.
“You buried her somewhere she was never meant to be found.”
The widow’s breath tightened.
For the first time, she looked past the coffin.
Not at the woman.
Not at the priest.
May you like
But at the ground itself.
As if it might answer back.
