The lid gave way, and Stefan looked inside. What he saw made his blood run cold.

Alina’s face was peaceful, but clutched tightly in her small hand was a crumpled, folded piece of paper. Stefan carefully unfolded it with trembling fingers. Written in Alina’s childish scrawl was a message:

“Don’t trust them. They lied to you.”

A cold dread spread through Stefan’s bones. Who had lied? The family? The village? The doctors? The old man’s mind raced.

Suddenly, the whisper of voices rose around him—villagers muttering about secrets, betrayal, and dark deeds hidden beneath the village’s quiet facade. Stefan realized that Alina’s death wasn’t natural—something sinister had been covered up.

Tears streamed down his face as he vowed to uncover the truth, to expose the lies that had stolen his granddaughter from him.

But the deeper he dug, the more dangerous it became.

Because in this village, some secrets are buried deeper than the dead.

Lesson:
Sometimes, the silence after death holds more truth than the words of the living. We must question what we accept and fight for justice—not just for the living, but for those whose voices were silenced too soon.