Tuwing umuuwi kami sa probinsya para dalawin ang biyenan ko, palaging naglalakad sa panaginip ang asawa ko tuwing hatinggabi. Hawak niya ang pala, pupunta sa bakuran at maghuhukay ng butas, pagkatapos ay babalik sa kama at matutulog na parang walang nangyari. Akala ko noong una, dala lang ito ng stress kaya siya nagsa-sleepwalk. Pero ang mga natuklasan ko pagkatapos ay labis na nakakatakot kaya agad akong tumawag ng pulis.

Lan and Thành met during their final year in university. Thành was a quiet, composed man—there was something deep and mysterious about him that piqued Lan’s curiosity. He wasn’t the type to be the center of attention in a crowd, but his gentle demeanor, attentiveness, and the way he listened made Lan feel at peace when she was with him. He always remembered that she liked her coffee without sugar, always held an umbrella over her when it rained, and silently stood behind her to protect her—never expecting a thank you.

Thành was born and raised in a peaceful countryside town, just a few hours’ drive from the city. After graduating, he moved to the city to work in the tech industry, and from there, the two began building their life together. They got married after two years of dating—their relationship always felt calm, never dramatic.

To Lan, Thành was the ideal husband—soft-spoken, gentle, and never once did he raise his voice or do anything to upset her. At times, he was even too quiet, but Lan saw it as a trait of someone mature and seasoned by life.

Occasionally, on weekends or holidays, the couple would return to Thành’s hometown to visit his mother. Lan always found these trips slightly strange—not for any clear reason, but due to an unshakable, unnamed feeling. His mother’s house was nestled among rice fields, surrounded by lush vegetable gardens and a few fruit trees. She lived alone but was always full of joy whenever they came to visit.

As soon as their car pulled up at the gate, Thành’s mother would swing the door open, waving excitedly. “You’re home! I made sour soup and braised fish—your favorite dishes!” she would say, her voice warm and cheerful. She treated Lan like her own daughter, lovingly preparing every meal and ensuring her comfort. To anyone looking in from the outside, their family seemed like a picture of quiet happiness.

But slowly, Lan began to notice the strange things that happened each time they returned to the countryside…

Part 2: Strange Things Begin to Happen and the Secret is Revealed

It started subtly.

The first time they came back to the countryside after getting married, Lan noticed that Thành sometimes talked in his sleep. It was unintelligible murmuring—words she couldn’t quite make out—but they always carried a tone of fear or guilt.

Then one night, while the air was thick with fog and the only sound was the chirping of crickets, Lan woke up and realized Thành wasn’t beside her. Panicked, she grabbed a flashlight and went outside to look for him. To her shock, she found him in the garden—barefoot, in his pajamas—digging a hole under the old tamarind tree.

“Thành?” she whispered.

He didn’t respond. His eyes were open but blank, his face expressionless. He just kept digging as if possessed. After about ten minutes, he dropped the shovel, walked slowly back into the house, and went to bed as though nothing had happened.

The next morning, when Lan asked him about it, Thành seemed confused. He had no memory of it. “Maybe I was sleepwalking,” he said, laughing it off.

Lan didn’t think much of it at first. She even filled in the hole herself, thinking it was just a one-time thing. But the same thing happened again. And again. Every time they visited his mother, around midnight, Thành would walk out to the garden and start digging in the same spot or nearby. Always silent. Always expressionless.

One night, driven by growing fear and suspicion, Lan decided to follow him and observe from a distance. But this time, when she checked the hole he had dug after he went back inside, something caught her eye—a piece of fabric. She pulled on it and unearthed a torn piece of cloth… then bone. A human bone.

Her hands shook. Her knees buckled. She screamed.

The police arrived the next morning after she made an anonymous call, too terrified to reveal her name. They dug deeper and found an entire human skeleton wrapped in an old sheet, buried under layers of soil and vegetable roots.

The investigation revealed the horrific truth: the remains belonged to Thành’s ex-wife.

Years ago, in a fit of rage during an argument, Thành had accidentally killed her. Instead of reporting it, he and his mother buried the body in the garden and planted vegetables on top to mask the site.

It was his guilt that had brought him back in his sleep. His subconscious had remembered what he tried to forget.

The image of a quiet, perfect husband shattered. Thành was arrested. His mother, too, was charged as an accomplice.

Lan, devastated and betrayed, left the countryside for good. The house that once seemed so peaceful was now empty—haunted by the crime, the lies, and the chilling silence of midnight digging.