My husband and I have a country house in the village. We often went there on weekends — planting flowers, harvesting vegetables from the garden, or just relaxing away from the city’s chaos.

But lately, he kept finding reasons not to go. One day it was work, the next day he was tired, or he had other errands. I didn’t think much of it — everyone goes through tough times.

Until one day, I was talking on the phone with the neighbor, and she suddenly said:

— I saw your husband at the country house yesterday.

I was shocked.

— That can’t be! He had a shift at work.

— No, no, I really saw him, — she insisted.

I hung up the phone, and the worst thoughts began spinning in my head. “Could he have a mistress? Is he secretly meeting her at the country house?”

The next weekend, my husband said again that he wasn’t going.

— Maybe I should go alone then? — I suggested.

— No! — he replied sharply. — I’d worry, I don’t want you going alone.

His insistence only strengthened my suspicions. When he left the house, I decided to follow him. And just as I suspected — he drove to the country house.

I waited a little while and then went too. I approached the house, my heart racing. I opened the door… and froze in horror. It would have been better if there had been a mistress there than what I saw

I carefully entered the house and listened. Silence. But from the shed came a strange smell, heavy and sweet-metallic. I stepped inside, my heart ready to leap out of my chest.

Inside, animal hides hung from the wooden beams. That was already unpleasant in itself, but my eyes immediately locked onto something that paralyzed me with fear: among them hung something that looked far too much like human skin.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

At that moment, my husband appeared in the doorway. His face went pale when he realized I had seen everything.

— This… this is hunting, — he muttered, stepping toward me. — I only started recently. I just didn’t want to scare you…

I looked at him without moving. Everything inside me screamed that he was lying. But I pretended to believe him. I forced a smile and said:

— Okay. I understand. I just didn’t expect it…

He relaxed, let his shoulders drop. We silently returned to the house, but I felt his gaze on my back, as if he were trying to guess whether I truly believed him.

That night I didn’t sleep a wink. The next morning, as soon as he left for his errands, I called the police with trembling hands. I knew: it was better for them to check than to find out later that my worst suspicions were true.