11/04/2025
My husband refused to bury his de@d mother, Nobody Knew He was...
The year I married my husband, Darlington, was the same year his mother d!ed — suddenly — while cooking in the kitchen. It was a quiet death, yet strange. No one ever talked about it. No burial, no coffin, no ceremony. Just silence.
Ten years passed, and his mother was still not buried.
Whenever I brought it up, he would look me straight in the eyes and say, “Clara, you Igbo's rush to bury your dead ones. We Yoruba's take our time. Sometimes twenty, even thirty years before burial.”
At first, I thought it was just his people’s way of honoring the dead. After all, who was I to question another man’s tradition? But over time, I began to feel something off in the air — something cold and secret that lingered in our home.
Until the day of my sister's burial came. The day that exposed my husband and his plans.
Gift, my sister, had died of kidney failure after years of struggling. She was only twenty-eight. That morning of her funeral, I sat beside my grieving mother, who cried like a woman who had lost her soul. My husband Darlington stood a few steps away, his hands tucked in his pockets, his face pale.
He looked… terrified.
At first, I thought it was the weight of the my sister's de@th and burial. But when I noticed his hands shaking and his eyes darting from one direction to another, my stomach tightened.
“Honey,” I whispered, touching his arm. “Are you alright?”
He je**ed slightly, forcing a weak smile. “Y-Yes, Clara, I’m fine. Just… tired.”
But he wasn’t fine. His heart was pounding so fast that I could almost hear it.
And just as the coffin was being lowered into the ground, the sound of chaos ripped through the air.
*Pow! Pow! Pow!*
Günsh0ts.
Screams.
Men in black masks rushed into the compound, sh0oting into the air. People ran in every direction. The entire crowd scattered. I grabbed my mother’s hand and hid behind a tree, trembling.
Within seconds, the masked men lifted my sister’s coffin — the one containing her lifeless body — and ran off with it.
I froze. “No! My sister!” I screamed, running after them, but someone pulled me back.
When I turned — it was Darlington.
And he was smiling.
It wasn’t a nervous smile. It was a quiet, eerie smirk that sent chills down my spine. But the moment he realized I had seen it, his face hardened again.
“Don’t worry, Clara,” he said calmly, brushing imaginary dust off his shirt. “They probably came to ste@l the expensive coffin to sell. It’s nothing serious. Just let it go.”
“Let it go?” I shouted in disbelief. “They took Gift’s body! My own sister!”
He didn’t answer me. He just turned around and walked away into the house — as if he didn’t hear me.
I ran to my mother, who was on the ground crying uncontrollably. “Mama, please, don’t worry,” I said, trying to comfort her. “We’ll find her. I promise.”
My phone rang suddenly. It was Darlington my husband.
“Clara,” his voice came through low and shaky, “come to the room. Now.”
Something about his tone frightened me. My legs were weak as I climbed the stairs. When I entered the room, he was pacing restlessly.
“Clara, I need your help,” he said quickly. “Please, I need your urine.”
I blinked. “What did you just say?”
“Please,” he begged, “just a small cup. I need to do something important. I’m taking it to the lab.”
My heart skipped. “The lab? Darlington, my sister’s coffin was just stolen! And you’re asking for my urine?”
He nodded desperately. “Clara, please don’t argue. Just give it to me. You won’t understand now.”
I stared at him in disbelief. For ten years, I’d trusted this man. But right now, he looked like someone I didn’t know. I didn’t argue further. I went to the bathroom, filled a cup, and handed it to him.
“Thank you,” he said, kissing my forehead. “I’ll be back soon.”
As he left, something inside me screamed *follow him.*
So I did.
I waited till he opened the gate, then tiptoed after him and slipped quietly into the boot of his car, hiding between some old blankets. My heart raced as I tried to steady my breathing.
Minutes later, I heard his voice. “Let’s go,” he said.
Three men entered the car — big, muscular men I’d never seen before. The car started, but instead of heading to the city where the lab was, they turned into a narrow dirt road that led deep into the forest.
My heart pounded inside the boot. I pressed my hand against my mouth.
Then my fingers brushed against something soft and cold inside the boot. I lifted the cloth beside me — and froze.
It was my sister’s body.
Her face was pale, her eyes half-open. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I wanted to scream, but I bit my tongue until I tasted bl0od.
Suddenly, the car stopped.
Through the crack of the boot, I saw we were in a thick forest.
“Open the boot and bring out the body,” Darlington ordered one of the men.
I froze in the boot as I heard the footstep of the man coming towards the boot.
To be Continued......
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