For six months, I had watched Adrian come home carrying the smell of smoke and disinfectant.

For six months, I had listened to the same explanation.

A body arrived.
A family needed help.
The crematorium was short-staffed.
Clara needed assistance.

And every time, I believed him.

Because Adrian was my husband.

The man who had held my hand when my father passed away.
The man who promised me that no matter how difficult life became, we would face everything together.

That was why the truth hurt so much.

Not because of Clara.

Not because I thought they were having an affair.

But because Adrian had lied about something much bigger.

Something that had nothing to do with another woman.

After Clara tore the divorce agreement apart, everyone in the emergency room looked at me like I was heartless.

They saw a wounded husband lying in a hospital bed.

They saw a wife refusing to forgive him.

But they didn’t know what I knew.

They didn’t know what I had discovered six months earlier.

I looked at Adrian.

His face was pale.

Not from pain.

From fear.

—Tell them, Adrian.

My voice was calm.

—Tell them what you really do when you say you are going to “cremate a body.”

The room became silent.

Clara frowned.

—Yining, what are you talking about?

I ignored her.

My eyes remained on my husband.

—Six months ago, I received a strange call.

Adrian’s fingers tightened around the blanket.

—A woman asked me if I was your wife.

Nobody moved.

—She said her father had passed away and that she had been waiting for the cremation documents for three days.

I paused.

—But according to the crematorium records, her father’s body had already been processed.

Clara’s expression changed slightly.

Adrian looked away.

That small movement told me everything.

—At first, I thought it was a mistake.

I continued.

—So I went to the crematorium.

A few people in the room looked confused.

—And I found something strange.

I opened my phone.

There were screenshots.

Documents.

Messages.

Everything I had collected.

—The records did not match.

One of Adrian’s colleagues stepped forward.

—Mrs. Lu, are you accusing him of something?

I looked at him.

—I’m saying that my husband has been hiding the truth from me for months.

I turned the screen toward them.

—Several families reported missing ashes.

The room froze.

Clara’s lips parted.

—Impossible.

I looked at her.

—Is it?

She didn’t answer.

Because she knew.

Maybe not everything.

But enough.

Adrian closed his eyes.

—Yining…

His voice was weak.

—You don’t understand.

I laughed softly.

—You’re right.

—I don’t understand.

I looked at him.

—Because the man I married spent months telling me he was helping grieving families, while secretly participating in something he knew was wrong.

His breathing became heavier.

For the first time, he wasn’t defending Clara.

He wasn’t explaining his work.

He was afraid of himself being exposed.

—It wasn’t what you think.

I stared at him.

—Then explain.

Silence.

One second.

Two seconds.

Ten seconds.

But Adrian said nothing.

And that silence was his answer.

The hospital room became chaotic after that.

His colleagues started asking questions.

Clara tried to defend him.

—Adrian would never hurt anyone.

I looked at her.

—Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think.

She froze.

Because that sentence was exactly what Adrian had once told me.

The same words he used when I questioned his relationship with her.

Maybe I didn’t know him.

Maybe none of us did.

The next morning, I received a message from an unknown number.

It was a photo.

A storage room inside the crematorium.

Inside were boxes.

Dozens of them.

Each one had a name.

A date.

And a file number.

My hands became cold when I opened the second photo.

Because one of those names…

was someone I knew.

Someone who was supposed to have been cremated six months ago.

Someone whose family had already received the ashes.

I immediately called the number.

A trembling voice answered.

—Mrs. Lu…

—Who are you?

There was a long silence.

Then the person whispered:

—Someone who worked with your husband.

—And I know why Adrian has been hiding the truth.

I looked back at the divorce papers lying on the table.

Suddenly, I understood.

The divorce was no longer just about leaving Adrian.

It was about uncovering what he had done.

Because the man who refused to sign those papers in the hospital…

was not afraid of losing his marriage.

He was afraid of losing everything.

read the entire Part 3 below.