Lately, my husband had been acting strangely. He stayed late at work, came home late, and seemed to avoid conversations. Whenever I tried to find out what was going on, he just brushed me off, sometimes smirking as if I were making things up. Everything seemed to suggest he had another woman.

I tormented myself for a long time with suspicions. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and asked him directly:

— Do you have a mistress?

He laughed and replied:

— Are you crazy?

But the ease with which he said it didn’t reassure me at all. The doubts remained.

Then a friend advised me to install a tracking app on his phone. I hesitated for a long time but eventually did as she said. And soon, to my horror, I discovered that after work, my husband really did go to the same place, a village outside the city, where he spent two to three hours.

I decided immediately: I would go and see for myself.

One evening, I opened the app and saw that he was heading to that address again. My heart pounded with jealousy and anger — I was sure I would see a hotel or a house where his mistress was waiting. But when I arrived, it turned out to be an old wooden house with a crooked shed.

I walked slowly into the yard. It was silent, only the boards creaked under my feet. The door to the house was unlocked, and I carefully opened it.

At first, the smell hit me. Heavy, suffocating, rotten. I thought of mold, dampness, an abandoned house. But the further I went inside, the stronger the smell became.

In a dimly lit room, I saw something horrible. I swear, I would have preferred to find a mistress there than what I saw

In the corner lay huge black bags. Some tightly tied, others half-open. Dark, damp stains spread across the floor, and I understood everything without even getting closer.

One bag was not properly tied, and a human hand stuck out of it. White, lifeless, with a broken fingernail.

I froze. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t.

— You… what are you doing here? — I heard my husband’s voice behind me.

He stood in the doorway, breathing heavily. In his hands, he held a crowbar. I looked at his face — and realized this was no longer the man I had lived with for so many years.

— Who… is this? — I whispered, barely able to get the words out.

He was silent for a moment, then smiled coldly.

— I thought you’d never find this place.

I stepped back, but behind me was only the cold wall. He took a step toward me, gripping the crowbar tightly.

— It would have been better if I really had a mistress, right? — he said quietly. — At least then you would have had a chance to live in peace.

I realized: one more second, and he would decide what to do with me. Instinct took over. I bolted for the door and ran outside, jumping over the threshold and stumbling on the ground.

His scream chased me:

— No one will ever believe you! Never!

And the worst part — I knew it could be true. In the eyes of others, he had always been the perfect husband, a reliable man.