I could sense the uneasiness in my husband’s voice as he uttered those words. Something inside the mattress. The curiosity and fear in his eyes mirrored my own. What could possibly be concealed inside?
As the flames engulfed the mattress, my husband pulled out a worn photograph from his jacket pocket. With trembling hands, he handed it to me. The image captured a young woman, her smile radiating through the picture. However, studying her face, a chilling sensation ran down my spine.
“Who is she?” I barely managed to whisper, my voice filled with anticipation.
Taking a deep breath, my husband’s eyes filled with sadness. He confessed, “That’s my sister. She vanished over two decades ago, and my mother never revealed her fate to anyone.”
Horror and disbelief crashed over me. How could my mother-in-law have hidden such a haunting secret for so long? And what other enigmas were buried beneath the surface?
As the bed burned down, I contemplated the notion that some mysteries are best left in the past. Yet, clutching the photograph in my trembling hand, I acknowledged that the truth always has a way of emerging.
