After leaving prison, the young man went first to the grave of his deceased fiancée: he bent down to lay flowers, but suddenly noticed something strange on her headstone — and froze in shock 😱😨
The young man was released early in the morning. Documents, a bag with his belongings, the quiet street — he needed nothing more. He immediately called a taxi and gave the only destination he cared about: the cemetery where his fiancée had been buried.
When the car arrived, he stood at the gate for a long time, as if he didn’t dare to go in. Everything inside him tightened. He had never been here — he had been arrested while her funeral was taking place. He hadn’t even seen where exactly she was buried. He had spent almost five years in prison.
The cemetery was enormous. Rows of tombstones stretched endlessly. He wandered among them for nearly half an hour, scanning each name. The name he needed was nowhere to be found. Only strangers’ surnames, strangers’ dates, strangers’ stories.
He pulled a crumpled paper from his pocket: the grave location, the section, the row. But everything was written so crookedly, as if scribbled in a hurry.
He walked along the indicated row — nothing. Again — still nothing.
Finally, he noticed a groundskeeper, an elderly man in a jacket and rubber boots.
“Excuse me…” — his voice cracked. “I’m looking for a grave. Here’s the surname. And here’s the document. Can you help me?”
The groundskeeper took the paper, squinted for a long time, then nodded:
“Oh… yes, I remember. We buried that girl. Rare name. Come.”
He led him to another section, not the one written on the paper. The groundskeeper waved his hand:
“Here. She’s here.”
Then he walked away, leaving the young man alone.
Only now did he really see the headstone. Large, black, heart-shaped, with her photograph. Flowers, frames — everything looked neat, as if someone visited often. He stepped closer. Knelt down to place the flowers, and at that moment noticed something strange 😱😨 Continued in the first comment 👇👇
And at that exact moment, his eyes fell on the dates. At first he simply didn’t understand. He reread them. And reread again.
The birth date — wrong. She could not have been born that year, he knew that for certain. The death date — also didn’t match. According to the documents, she had died earlier than what was engraved there.
He stood up, stepped back, and looked at the stone again, this time carefully. The dates were engraved differently — the depth and shade were not the same. As if they had been added later, over the previous ones.
He ran his finger across the stone and felt, beneath the polished surface, the traces of older numbers. Someone had erased the real dates and engraved new ones.
And then the thought, so chilling that it froze his blood, became undeniable:
She isn’t buried here. This grave belongs to another woman. They simply placed her name over it.
He slowly laid his hand on the stone, trying to understand what was truly happening.
If this isn’t her grave… If someone else is buried here… then where is his fiancée? And why would someone replace her burial site?
He stood motionless as the wind rustled through the grass.
Now he knew one thing: he had never been told the full truth about her death. And perhaps the reason he spent all those years in prison was tied directly to this.
