My Sick 67-Year-Old Mother Disappeared for 3 Days, and When She Returned, She Pointed at My Husband
When my mother, Margaret, went missing, I was terrified. At 67, she wasn’t in the best health—her heart was weak, and her memory had been slipping. The police searched, neighbors helped, and I barely slept, fearing the worst.
Then, on the third evening, she walked through the front door. Her clothes were dusty, her face pale, and she looked exhausted. But what shocked me most was what happened next.
She raised a trembling hand and pointed at my husband, Daniel. “I know what you did,” she said, her voice weak but certain.
Daniel’s face turned white. “Margaret, what are you talking about?”
I rushed to my mother, hugging her tightly. “Mom, where have you been? We were so worried!”
She didn’t answer me. Her eyes stayed locked on Daniel. “You thought I wouldn’t find out,” she whispered.
Daniel let out a nervous laugh. “This is crazy. She’s confused.”
But something in my mother’s expression sent chills down my spine.
“Mom, tell me what happened,” I urged.
She took a deep breath, then sat down. “Three days ago, I remembered something I wasn’t supposed to. A memory I had pushed away, but it came back.” She looked at me, her eyes filled with sorrow. “I remembered where I had seen Daniel before you introduced us.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I saw him years ago… when your father died,” she said.
My breath caught in my throat. My father had died in an accident—a hit-and-run. The driver was never found.
Daniel scoffed. “Margaret, this is ridiculous.”
But my mother continued. “I remembered that night so clearly. I was walking back to the car, and I saw the driver speed away. I even caught a glimpse of his face before he disappeared. I never put it together before… until now.”
My heart pounded. “Mom… are you saying—?”
She nodded. “Daniel was the driver that killed your father.”
Silence filled the room. I turned to my husband, my hands shaking. “Tell me she’s wrong, Daniel.”
His eyes darted between us, his jaw clenched. Then, without another word, he grabbed his keys and bolted out the door.
The truth crashed over me. The man I had trusted, the man I had loved, had been keeping a terrible secret from me.
Tears streamed down my face as my mother held my hand. “I couldn’t let him get away with it,” she whispered.
Neither could I.
I picked up my phone and dialed the police.
