No matter how they reasoned with her, the mother remained firm. Only hours later did she reluctantly agree to come. She refused black clothes, instead wore a bright blue coat. In her hands she carried a heavy black bag, never letting it go for even a moment. Her daughter-in-law kept quiet—what mattered was she finally agreed to attend.

The day was dreary, thick clouds pressed down on the cemetery. When the service began and the coffin was about to be sealed, the mother suddenly stepped forward. Her face had drained of color. She placed the bag on the ground, pulled out an axe, and before anyone could stop her, she swung and struck the coffin lid with full strength.

The wood cracked, pieces flew apart. One blow, then another, until the coffin burst nearly in half.

…A chilling silence followed. The mourners froze; some gasped and covered their mouths, others stumbled back. The priest lowered his gaze, as though hoping to vanish. The crowd stood paralyzed until a horrified shout tore the air:

— It’s… empty!