Lately, my husband had been acting in ways that made my nerves fray. He would spend hours away from home without saying where he was going, return at dawn, or sometimes not come back at all. When I asked him, he replied with short, annoyed answers, as if hiding something that shouldn’t be discovered.

One night, I woke suddenly and saw him getting up stealthily. He thought I was asleep. He quietly put on his shoes, grabbed something from the hallway, and slipped out. My heart started pounding; a mix of fear and curiosity pushed me to follow him.

From the window, I watched him head to the far end of the yard. He glanced around to make sure he was alone, and then, with quick movements, began digging into the soil. I froze, wrapped in darkness and dread, as I watched him dig a small hole, place something inside, and hurriedly cover it back up. I couldn’t make out what it was, but his behavior chilled me to the bone.

The following night, he did the same thing. I could no longer bear the uncertainty. The next morning, when he left for work, I grabbed a shovel and went into the yard with our dog. She immediately got anxious: barking, sniffing the ground, scratching at the same spot my husband had dug.

The air felt heavy. The more we dug, the stronger the sense that something terrible lay beneath the soil. Then I saw the corner of an old sack, damp and covered in mud. A thick, ancient smell rose from the disturbed earth. I stepped back, but my dog kept digging insistently until the sack was fully exposed.

My hands trembled as I opened it. Inside were things that shouldn’t have been there: old clothes, a woman’s shoe, and a small metallic object. A pendant. I recognized it immediately. I had seen it years ago, worn by a young woman who had been involved with my husband before he married me. He had told me she moved abroad… that he hadn’t heard from her in years.

At that moment, I understood everything. He wasn’t burying trash or memories. He was hiding a dark past he had tried to erase with his own hands.

And now that I know, I can barely sleep. Every night, I hear footsteps in the yard and the distant scrape of a shovel. I fear the moment he discovers that the earth has been disturbed again.