16/08/2026
THE WOMAN WHO RECEIVED A CALL FROM HER DEAD HUSBAND
PART 1 — THE PHONE CALL
The day my husband was buried, his phone called me.
I almost dropped the plate in my hand.
It was 9:16 p.m.
I stared at the screen.
HUSBAND ❤️
My hands began shaking.
That number had been switched off since the day he died.
I didn't answer.
The phone stopped ringing.
Then it rang again.
This time, I answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
“Who is this?”
I heard breathing.
Then a familiar voice whispered:
“Ada… don't sleep tonight.”
My heart stopped.
It was my husband's voice.
“Chinedu?”
The call ended.
I immediately called the number back.
It was switched off.
I ran to my mother-in-law's room.
“Mummy!”
She opened the door.
“What happened?”
“My husband's phone just called me.”
She stared at me.
“What did you say?”
I showed her the screen.
The moment she saw the number, her face changed.
“Where did you get this?”
“It called me!”
She grabbed my wrist.
“Listen to me carefully.”
Her voice was trembling.
“Whatever happens tonight, don't answer that phone again.”
“Why?”
She looked toward the window.
“Because Chinedu wasn't the first person to receive that call.”
I froze.
“What do you mean?”
She refused to answer.
“Mummy, please tell me.”
She slowly sat down.
“Three years ago, Chinedu's elder brother received the same call.”
I stared at her.
“What happened to him?”
She looked directly into my eyes.
“He died the following morning.”
Suddenly...
RING!
My phone started ringing again.
Both of us looked at it.
HUSBAND ❤️
My mother-in-law stepped backward.
“Don't answer.”
The phone kept ringing.
Then a message appeared.
UNKNOWN NUMBER:
“ASK YOUR MOTHER-IN-LAW WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HUSBAND THE NIGHT BEFORE HE DIED.”
I looked at her.
“Mummy…”
She was crying.
“I knew this day would come.”
“Come for what?”
She didn't answer.
Instead, she walked to an old wooden cabinet and removed a small brown envelope.
She handed it to me.
“Your husband left this for you.”
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed my husband standing beside a woman I had never seen before.
But what frightened me wasn't the woman.
It was the date written behind the photograph.
Tomorrow's date.
I looked at my mother-in-law.
“Mummy…”
She whispered:
“Your husband took that photograph three days after his funeral.”
Then my phone rang again.
This time, I answered.
A voice whispered:
“Ada… I'm standing outside your house.”
I slowly looked toward the window.
There was a man standing outside.
Wearing the exact clothes my husband was buried in.
END OF PART 1
Would you open the door? 👀
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