I Buried My Daughter, Then My Husband Buried Me

So that was why. He’d kept this room for their games. Maybe it thrilled him to touch her mistress in the same bed we once shared, surrounded by my things.

I felt sick. I ran to the bathroom and threw up until there was nothing left in me.

My whole body hurts. My chest burned. I couldn’t stand it anymore. The tiles felt cold against my skin as I fell to the floor, the edges of the room fading into black.

When I opened my eyes again, the light was already creeping in through the curtains. My head felt heavy, and every part of me ached. I was lying on that same bed I used to share with him.

Justine was standing next to the bed. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, watching me. His face looked calm, too calm, but there was something in his eyes I couldn’t name. For a second, I thought I saw pity. Maybe even love. But I knew better than to believe that.

“Since we’ve come to this point, why don’t you just throw my things away? Let Cerise move in. Isn’t that what you both want?” I tried to sit up, but my body felt weak. “Is this your idea of excitement? Sleeping with her in the same bed, surrounded by my things?”

His face changed instantly. I could tell he was furious, “You know about Cerise?”

“I saw you both yesterday... I saw her holding your hand. I saw the kid.”

He didn’t even flinch. “We do have a child.”

Something in me broke again.

My hands shook, “I remember when we first got married,” my voice trembling. “You used to keep me up all night, saying you couldn’t get enough of me. You said you wanted me so much you could lose your mind.” I laughed bitterly. “You said if you could, you’d keep me inside you forever. That way, I’d always belong to you.”

He didn’t say a word. He just stood there, looking away.

“The man who said that… now belongs to someone else,” I whispered. “Tell me, Justine. If you’re so happy with her, why not divorce me? Why make me live through this?”

He finally looked at me. “Divorce you? In a week, the Judicial Council will announce the new appointees. I can’t risk it, Emily. I can’t give them a reason to doubt me.” He paused, then added quietly, “Once this week is over, we’ll get the divorce.”

I stared at him. Suddenly everything made sense. Why Cerise and her daughter never stayed here. Why were my clothes still in the closet... Why did he still pretend this was a home... He didn’t keep them for love. He kept them for his reputation. Pathetic.

He was still the same coward.

Cerise’s father had been his mentor. Her older brother was his close friend, too. I still remember the day he told me about her. “She’s my teacher’s daughter, and my friend’s sister,” he said. “She’s young, immature. Don’t take her seriously.”

And when I got jealous, when I wanted to confront her, he held me close and whispered, “Her father’s done so much for me. I don’t want to ruin our relationship over petty things. Trust me. I’ll keep my distance from her.”

I believed him.

That night, after Justine left for work, I went to my daughter’s old room.

It was the only place left that still felt like mine.

When I opened my eyes that morning, I felt something warm over me. A blanket. Thin, rough, but tucked around my shoulders.

For a second, I just stared at it, trying to figure out where it came from. Then I realized—it had to be Justine.

I pulled the blanket off and threw it to the floor. It felt filthy against my skin.

My phone buzzed. A message from Lila.

“I’m trying to hurry up here. You can also look for clues.”

Clues. I stared at the screen for a moment, then turned toward the master bedroom. The door was still half open.

Then I heard laughter.

Soft, sweet laughter that didn’t belong here.

When I reached the bottom, I saw them. Justine and Cerise, standing together in the open kitchen.