A whole town was sad in St. Michael’s Church, but no one was ready for what came next…
The church was filled with a heavy sadness that was almost too much to bear. Incense and melted wax gave off a sweet smell that mixed with the smell of old wood and the cold dampness of stone. The air was thick. Ana stood next to the casket where her husband Michael had been buried.
With her broken heart, she wore all black and held their two-year-old daughter Sofia close. But the little girl wriggled in her arms. She was crying so hard that her face was red and swollen from crying, and it was shining with tears.
— Dad! Sofia cried out, “Daddy!” and pointed her little finger at the coffin.
It was hard for Ana to swallow, and a bitter lump formed in her throat. She clenched the edge of her dress with her hands under her hood. The stress made her fingers white.
Then…. There was a change. There was something in the church that no one could explain.
Sofia stopped being sad.
In every way.
Her tiny hand seemed to freeze in the air and point straight at the closed coffin. Her whole body stopped moving.
Then Sofia spoke in the clearest voice Ana had ever heard from her daughter—calm and almost relieved.
Daddy isn’t in there. He’s next to the man in the blue jacket.
Everyone in the rows turned their head.
In the church, there was no one wearing a blue jacket.
That Ana could not see.
Sofia wasn’t looking, though. There was someone standing to the left of the altar, against the far wall. She looked at them with fixed eyes.
Ana took a deep breath. Her knees were almost giving out.
Mira, her sister-in-law, stepped forward and gently took Sofia from Ana’s arms, telling her, “She seems like a child.” “She has no idea what death is.”
Ana wasn’t sure, though.
That night, after the wake, Ana sat on the couch by herself with a cup of cold chamomile tea. She was still wearing her black dress.
Neither at the service nor at the funeral had she said anything before. But Sofia’s words hurt her deeply.
Because of this.
A man in a blue jacket was there.
He saw Ana a week before Michael died. Around 4 p.m. on a Wednesday, as she was leaving the drugstore.
He was big. Late 40s. thin face, sharp nose, and a bright blue jacket that looks like cobalt. He was looking at their house from the other side of the street.
Not moving. I’m not moving. I’m just watching.
She was almost going to cross the street to talk to him. He was still there when she looked down to get her car keys and then back up again.
She forgot about it.
Until Sofia said those words.
Ana did something she felt bad about the next morning.
She took Michael’s phone and answered it.
It was still the same lock screen code: the date of their wedding.
Not really, she wasn’t looking for secrets. It didn’t feel right, though.
In the weeks before the crash, he hadn’t been close to anyone. Peaceful. Taken away. During his return from a work trip, his car had gone off a forest road in the middle of nowhere. That part of town was awful for Michael to drive through, so he always took the highway, even if it took longer.
His words were read by her.
It was right there.
A thread with a person named “J” in it.
No last name.
One message from the day before the crash:
“You can’t go back if you do this.” That person you deal with is known.
Ana’s hands were shaking. Her heart was beating fast.
Who was J?
What had Michael done to get into this mess?
That night, she didn’t sleep.
She drove to the scene of the accident the next morning instead. Sofia was in the back seat with her favorite toy while she was brought along.
She needed to end things. Answers. Something.
Police tape was still blocking some of the road. She parked a little further down the hill and walked with Sofia in her arms, stepping on the dry grass and dirt.
When they got to the spot where the car had hit the tree, Sofia spoke again and looked up at her mother.
— Okay, Mom. Daddy jumped out there.
Ana stopped moving.
— What do you mean?
Sofia shook her head.
—The man wasn’t in the car. He left when the man blew his whistle. He then ran into the woods.
Ana had to grab a tree to stay standing after her legs gave out.
Because the cops said Michael was in the car when it blew up.
No one had doubts about it.
However…
Was it possible that he had lived?
Even worse, was he ever supposed to be in the car?
Weeks went by.
Michael never got in touch with Ana. Strange things began to happen, though. Food was left on the porch. A blue pebble was put on their front door twice. She saw lights flashing in rooms she hadn’t been in.
She turned in a report, but it didn’t prove anything. No signs that someone broke in. Not a single print. Just… signs.
Sofia still talked to her pet animal every once in a while:
— Don’t be scared, dad. We’re safe with him.
After six months, Ana got a letter.
There is no return address. She only had her name typed out.
Inside is a single picture. Old and rough. Behind a young Michael, there is a guy in a blue jacket who is smiling at something off-screen.
In writing Ana didn’t recognize on the back:
“He chose.” He did it for you. Protect her.
She held the picture close to her chest and quietly shed tears.
She might never know the whole truth.
Michael may have been associated with something risky.
He may have faked his death to keep them safe from J or whoever he was.
One thing was clear, though.
Love sometimes means leaving.
Even if it makes you hurt.
Truths seem to appear out of nowhere when you’re ready to hear them. People we lose aren’t always gone; sometimes they’re just watching over us from afar. If this made you feel something, please share it. Today, you never know who might need to hear this. 💬💏
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