On the day of my mother’s funeral, I ended up in the river — I don’t know whether I accidentally slipped or someone deliberately pushed me. But when I somehow managed to get out of the water, I accidentally overheard a conversation between my husband and my best friend.

On the day of my mother’s funeral, I ended up in the river — I don’t know whether I accidentally slipped or someone deliberately pushed me. But when I somehow managed to get out of the water, I accidentally overheard a conversation between my husband and my best friend.

My mother’s funeral passed in a blur. People offered me words of comfort, hugged me, someone brought dishes to the table, and someone quietly cried. I barely heard any of it. By evening, the guests began to leave. The house felt stuffy and heavy. I needed some fresh air, so I quietly walked down to the river.

The riverbank was wet and slippery after the rain. I was standing right at the water’s edge when suddenly the ground gave way beneath my feet. I didn’t even have time to scream before, a second later, I found myself in the icy water.

The current was incredibly strong. My dress immediately began pulling me down, and my shoes made it difficult to move. For a few seconds, I could do nothing but gasp for air, convinced that I was about to drown.

But when I was young, I had spent many years swimming. That experience saved my life. Instinct took over faster than fear. I quickly rolled onto my back, pushed off with my legs, and swam toward the reeds along the bank.

My fingers finally touched the firm stalks. I grabbed onto them and, with enormous effort, managed to pull myself onto the shore.

I lay there in the wet mud, struggling to catch my breath and regain consciousness. That was when I heard voices.

Someone had approached the edge of the cliff directly above my head. I carefully raised my eyes through the reeds and froze.

It was my husband and my best friend.

They were standing very close to the edge, looking down at the water.

“She won’t make it out,” my husband said calmly. “Even an experienced swimmer would hardly survive that.”

“But what if she does?” my friend asked nervously.

“She won’t. Besides, everyone saw that she had been drinking a little after the funeral.”

My friend gave a quiet smile.

“She’s not a problem. I’ll say I saw her slip and fall. I’ll say I tried to help her, but I was too late.”

“Exactly,” my husband replied.

Suddenly, it occurred to me that perhaps I hadn’t fallen into the river by accident at all.

My friend fell silent, then suddenly asked:

“Fine. But what did you do about her mother’s death? Did you bribe someone?”

My husband answered calmly, as though they were discussing something completely ordinary.

“Yes. Everything is under control. Everyone believed the heart attack story.”

Something inside me broke.

My friend quietly laughed.

“You promised you’d tell me everything once they were both dead. Now explain why you wanted to get rid of both of them at once.”

My husband was silent for several seconds.

“Because they knew a very important secret.”

“And what secret was that?”

I stopped breathing.

And then he told her something that sent a cold, trembling fear down my spine.

That was why he had gotten rid of my mother…

and that was why he wanted to get rid of me…..

Not long before her death, my mother called me and asked me to come over urgently. When I arrived, she was sitting in the kitchen wearing a robe and holding an old photograph in her hands.

“Do you remember my brother?” she asked quietly.

I remembered him only vaguely. A tall man who used to carry me on his shoulders. He died when I was six years old.

My mother fell silent, then said:

“They helped him die. And I’ve kept silent for almost forty years.”

She told me that her brother had worked in the district administration and was responsible for processing land documents.

In the late 1970s, several influential people had illegally registered large plots of land in their own names. The documents had been forged after the fact, using fake stamps and signatures.

He was the only person who knew the truth.

He managed to take the original documents and hide them with my mother.

A month later, he was found dead on the railway tracks. Everyone was told that he had been drinking and had fallen under a train.

My mother remained silent for almost forty years because she was afraid.

But recently, expensive cottages had begun to be built on that very land. The construction company was owned by the son of the man who had once forged the documents.

My mother told me that someone had started watching her. Strange cars had begun appearing near her house.

“They found out,” she said.

Before I left, my mother told me:

“I moved the documents somewhere else. I won’t tell you the address. Look for them somewhere we used to go often when you were little. When you find them, give them to the court.”

At the time, I didn’t understand how dangerous the situation really was.

But somehow, my husband found out about the documents.

And now, listening to his conversation with my best friend, I finally understood the truth.

They killed my mother.

And moments ago, they tried to kill me.