The woman approached her husband’s coffin and tipped the bucket over his face.
The night had been eerily quiet. Laura Mitchell sat curled up on the sofa, her grip clutched by a cup of tea that had long since gone cold. Her husband Daniel should have been home seven hours earlier. Until midnight, after ten unanswered calls, the silence weighed on her like an unbearable burden.
At two o’clock in the morning, her phone finally rang. But it wasn’t Daniel.
“Mrs. Mitchell,” came a calm, matter-of-fact voice of a police officer. “We found your husband’s car destroyed on a river. No corpse. However, everything indicates that he did not make it.”
The words let the teacup fall from her hand; Shards were scattered across the floor. A shockwave of disbelief swept through her, leaving her numb and disoriented.
In the days that followed, the house was filled with subdued expressions of condolence, folded hands and pitying looks. But none of this could penetrate the inner pain.
Then the cracks began to become visible.
While going through Daniel’s paperwork for the insurance company, Laura discovered a receipt dated after the accident – signed in his handwriting, at a roadside motel in New Jersey. Her heartbeat accelerated. She dug deeper: inexplicable bank withdrawals, strange sightings of his car miles away from where it was supposedly found. Bit by bit, a cruel truth emerged: Daniel was not dead. He had staged everything.
The day of the funeral came, shrouded in mourning. The house was filled with mourners, the air heavy with sorrow. But Laura’s composure was disturbingly calm. In the center of the room lay Daniel’s coffin, surrounded by flowers, his face admiring. Beneath Laura’s serene surface, however, lurked a cold, well-thought-out plan.
When the moment of the last goodbye came, Laura brought neither flowers nor tears. Instead, she carried a bucket of ice water that she had kept hidden.
Without a word, she stepped up to the coffin, knelt down, and poured the ice-cold contents over Daniel’s face with unwavering determination.
The water ran over his skin, penetrating the carefully arranged features. A shiver ran through the room. Then, with a jerk, Daniel opened his eyes. A collective gasp went through the crowd. Guests recoiled in horror and disbelief.
Slowly he sat up—no longer the corpse they had thought him to be. He stood alive and naked before all, bereft of his delusion.
