My Loving Husband Documented My Death Online

I was scrolling through Reddit while eating breakfast.

A title caught my eye: Documenting how my wife dies today.

I thought it was just some idiot writing creative fiction and was about to swipe away.

But the very first sentence froze me in my tracks.

She should be finished with breakfast by now, the one I personally made for her. What she doesn't know is that I slipped something into her milk.

I looked down at the glass in my hand.

Empty.

I had just finished it.

My fingers trembled slightly as I scrolled down.

In three hours, she will drive to pick up our daughter. I tampered with her brake lines. They will completely fail when she crosses the bay bridge.

There are no cameras on that stretch of the road, no emergency lane, and the bridge is ninety feet above the water. She can't swim.

Once shes dead, everyone will think it was just a tragic accident.

I will be the heartbroken husband, clutching her photo and sobbing until I pass out. Everyone will pity me.

Perfect.

The comment section was already blowing up.

Is OP writing a thriller novel here?

I swear Ive seen this exact plot on a true crime podcast.

Bro, does your wife know youre fantasizing about her death on here? Lmao.

Someone call the cops, this guy is giving off major psycho vibes.

But a few comments made a chill run down my spine.

Wait, OPs IP is in Riverdale? The bay bridge? Is he talking about the suspension bridge?

What time did OP post this? What time is it now? If you do the math, isn't the time almost up?

Holy crap, is anyone going to go check on this??

I stared at the screen, my hands shaking.

Not out of fear.

But because

My husband, Julian, was born and raised in Riverdale.

We lived in the Riverdale district.

Every single morning, I drank a glass of warm milk he prepared for me.

I did plan to drive and pick up our daughter today.

And that suspension bridge was the only route to her school.

I raised my head and looked toward the kitchen.

Julian was washing the dishes, his back to me. His shoulder blades moved slightly with his motions.

We had been married for five years. Every morning, he got up earlier than me to make breakfast and warm up my milk.

Everyone envied me, saying I married the most perfect, loving man in the world.

"All done?" He turned around and smiled at me. "Want another glass?"

"N-No, thank you," I said, my voice sounding incredibly dry.

He walked over and took the empty glass from my hand.

As he passed by, he naturally placed a hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Come back early today. Ill make your favorite lasagna for dinner."

I nodded.

The moment he walked back into the kitchen, I grabbed my phone and reopened the Reddit thread.

Post time: 7:03 AM.

Current time: 7:48 AM.

The post said she would drive to pick up the kid in three hours.

That would be around ten o'clock.

I looked at the clock on the wall, then out the window

Our car, a silver Toyota, was parked in the driveway below.

Julian had taken it in for maintenance last week.

He told me it was just a routine checkup.

Only now did I remember that the mechanic shop he used was owned by Marcus, his childhood best friend.

I dialed my daughter's preschool.

"Miss Chloe, what time does Lily get dismissed today?"

"Dismissal is at 4:20 PM as usual, Maya. Is everything okay?"

"Yes, just checking. Thank you."

4:20 PM.

The post said she would go pick up the kid.

But my pickup time was in the afternoon.

Unless

My phone suddenly vibrated.

It was an iMessage from Julian:

Hey babe, can you pick up my mom today? She suddenly decided to come visit Lily. Her train gets to the station at 11:30 AM.

You should drive. I have to meet a client this afternoon.

11:30 AM.

To get to the train station by then, I would have to cross the suspension bridge at exactly ten o'clock.

Holding my phone, I stared at the message, my entire body turning cold.

Julians mother had visited us three months ago.

She gets terrible motion sickness and absolutely hates traveling.

Why would she suddenly want to visit her granddaughter now?

And the train station

To get there, taking the suspension bridge was unavoidable.

I slowly stood up, walked to the window, and looked down at the car.

The silver Toyota gleamed under the morning sun.

It looked completely normal.

But if that Reddit post was true...

I took a deep breath, opened my phone, and tapped back into the thread.

I scrolled down to the latest update.

It was from OP.

7:52 AM. She finished the milk. Now shes going to change her clothes.

My hand clenched around my phone so hard my knuckles turned white.

I had indeed just finished the milk.

I was indeed about to go change.

I whipped my head around.

In the kitchen, Julian was still washing dishes.

The sound of running water filled the air.

His back was toward me, his shoulders relaxed.

But then, I noticed a detail

His phone was sitting right on the counter next to the stove.

The screen was lit.

I couldn't read the text from this distance, but I could see the layout

It was Reddit.

In Dark Mode.

The exact same interface I was looking at.

I don't even remember how I managed to change my clothes.

My fingers wouldn't stop shaking, and it took me three tries just to zip up my dress.

When I walked out of the bedroom, Julian was already sitting on the couch.

Seeing me, he smiled. "Ready? Let me walk you down to the car."

"No need!" the words spilled out of my mouth.

He blinked, looking surprised.

Realizing I had overreacted, I quickly added, "Don't you have to meet your client soon? I can walk down myself."

"I've got time." He stood up, walked over, and naturally wrapped his arm around my waist. "Ill walk you to the garage."

His arm was warm and strong, just like it had been every day for the past five years.

But right now, it felt like a snake wrapping itself around my body.

We were the only two people in the elevator.

The mirrored walls reflected our reflectionhe was half a head taller than me, looking down at me with gentle, loving eyes.

Just like he did every time we went out.

But today, I didn't dare to look into his eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"N-Nothing."

"Your hands are so cold." He took my hand and frowned. "Did you skip breakfast again?"

"No, I ate. I finished everything you made."

"Good."

The elevator doors opened at the garage level.

He walked me to the car and pulled open the driver's side door.

I got in, and he leaned over to buckle my seatbelt for me.

He had done this for five years, always meticulous and gentle.

But today, his hand lingered on the seatbelt buckle for a second.

Very brief. Maybe just a second or two.

Then he stood back up and waved. "Drive safe. Let me know when you pick up Mom."

I nodded and started the engine.

In the rearview mirror, he stood in his spot, watching me back out, turn, and drive out of the garage.

Only when his figure completely disappeared did I dare to breathe heavily.

I pulled over just outside our residential complex.

The car sat idle.

I took out my phone and reopened the Reddit thread.

OP had updated again.

8:47 AM. Shes out.

Shes driving the silver Toyota, license plate ending in 327. If you guys see her on the road, give her some spacenot like shell need it for much longer anyway.

By the way, she seemed a little off just now. Maybe she noticed something? Doesn't matter, shell still go. Shes far too obedient.

My hands were shaking violently.

"Too obedient."

That was what Julian always said to me.

"You're so obedient, Maya," he would say, running his fingers through my hair, his tone so affectionate as if it were my greatest virtue.

I didn't know what to do.

Call the police?

Tell them I saw a post on Reddit saying my husband is trying to kill me?

Would they even believe me?

Call a friend?

And say what? That I suspect my husband is trying to orchestrate a car crash to murder me?

Even to my own ears, it sounded completely insane.

I looked at the post again.

9:12 AM. One hour left.

One hour.

In one hour, if I drove onto that bridge

I slammed my foot on the gas and turned into a narrow side alley.

This road did not lead to the train station.

I parked by the curb of a random street and dialed the school again.

"Miss Chloe, it's me."

"Maya? Is everything okay?"

"I just wanted to ask... did Lily eat her lunch today?"

"Yes, she did. She just finished. Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing. I just... suddenly missed her."

"Haha, that's totally normal for a mom. Dismissal is at 4:20 PM. Don't be late!"

4:20 PM.

4:20 PM.

The post said she would crash on her way to pick up the kid.

But my pickup was in the afternoon.

If I didn't go pick up my mother-in-law

My phone rang.

It was Julian.

I stared at his name flashing on the screen. I took three deep breaths before sliding to answer.

"Hey."

"Did you pick up Mom yet?" His voice was as gentle as ever.

"Not yet, traffic is a bit backed up."

"Oh, then drive slowly, no rush. By the way, Maya"

"Yeah?"

"Did you forget something in your purse?"

I froze. "What do you mean?"

"The ring in your bag. The one I gave you. I just saw it sitting on the couch."

The ring.

I instinctively reached into my bag.

It was empty.

The ring engraved with the word "Substitute"the one I had found in the car this morning and tossed into my bag.

When I was changing my clothes, it must have slipped out.

"Oh, yes, that's mine," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"That's a relief." He chuckled. "I thought you picked up someone else's. It's a nice ring. The engraving is quite interesting."

The engraving.

"Substitute."

How did he know what was engraved on it?

I had never told him.

I hadn't even had the chance to.

"Maya?" his voice came through the line. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah."

"Good," he said. "Be careful on the road. Drive slowly when you cross the bridge, it's really windy today."

The bridge.

He knew I had to cross the bridge.

I had never told him his mother was taking the train.

He was the one who told me.

He was the one who sent me to pick her up.

"Maya?"

"I'm listening."

"Are you okay? Your voice sounds a bit strange."

"I'm fine," I said. "Just a little tired."

"Then go straight home after you get Mom. Ill head home right after my client meeting. I'll make that lasagna tonight."

"Okay."

The call ended.

I gripped my phone, sitting in the car, watching the minutes tick away.

9:24 AM.

Thirty-six minutes left.

The silver Toyota sat quietly.

The brake lines had been tampered with.

They would fail the moment I got onto the bridge.

Ninety feet high.

I couldn't swim.

I closed my eyes, and my mind flooded with memories of the last five years.

The way he warmed up my milk.

The way he buckled my seatbelt.

The way he stayed up all night taking care of me when I was sick.

The way he sobbed until he passed out at my sisters funeral.

My sister.

My eyes snapped open.

Three years ago, my twin sister, Serena, died in a car accident.

A rainy night.

Losing control on the highway.

The car plunged off the embankment.

Everyone, including me, thought it was a tragic accident.

But what if

What if it wasn't?

I called a roadside assistance service.

"Hi, what is your current location and what seems to be the problem with your vehicle?"

"I'm on Elm Street in the Riverdale district. My car won't start," I said. "Can you send someone over to take a look?"

"Sure thing, ma'am. We should have a technician there in about twenty minutes."

"Thank you."

The moment I hung up, I dialed another number.

"911, what is your emergency?"

Ten minutes later, two police cruisers pulled up in front of me.

I handed my phone to the officers and showed them the Reddit thread.

"Just because of this?" The younger officer frowned. "Ma'am, this looks like a typical creepy-pasta post. We can't really"

"You can track the IP address," I interrupted him. "The person posting this is very likely my husband."

"Your husband?"

"He said he slipped something into my milk. I did drink the milk he made this morning. He said my brake lines were tampered with. He was the one who took this car for maintenance last week. He said I would crash on the suspension bridge. My mother-in-law is supposedly coming by train today, and I was supposed to cross that bridge to pick her up."

The two officers exchanged a look.

The older officer spoke up. "Have you and your husband been having marital issues lately?"

"No."

"How is your relationship?"

"Perfect," I said. "Everyone says we are the perfect couple."

"Then why"

"I don't know," I shook my head. "But you can investigate. Find out who wrote this post. Check if my car has been tampered with."

The tow truck arrived before the police could make a move.

A mechanic in a jumpsuit hopped out. "Hey ma'am, which car is the one that won't start?"

I pointed to the silver Toyota.

He popped the hood and tinkered around for a few minutes before sticking his head out.

"Ma'am, there's nothing wrong with your engine. It starts right up."

"I know," I said. "But I need you to check something else."

"What's that?"

"The brake lines."

He looked puzzled but crawled underneath the car anyway.

A few minutes later, he emerged, his expression looking grim.

"Ma'am... your brake lines are indeed messed up."

"What's wrong with them?"

"The connection valve is completely loose. Almost all the brake fluid has leaked out. If you drove another ten miles, your brakes would have failed completely." He stared at me. "You said you just got this serviced? Whoever did this did a horribly sloppy job."

The two police officers' expressions instantly changed.

"Sir, can you tell if this was intentional or an accident?"

The mechanic scratched his head. "Hard to say for sure. But the valve was loosened very cleanly, doesn't look like natural wear and tear. And given the location, a normal mechanic wouldn't touch this part during a routine service."

The older officer looked at me. "Does your husband know you're out driving today?"

"Yes. He sent me to pick up his mother."

"Is his mother definitely arriving today?"

"That's what he told me."

The officer stepped aside to make a phone call.

Five minutes later, he walked back over.

"We checked the train registry. No one by that name has a ticket booked to Riverdale today."

I closed my eyes.

Of course.

There was no visiting mother-in-law.

There was no train.

There was only a husband who wanted me dead.

"Ma'am," the older officer said, putting his phone away. "We need you to come to the station to give a formal statement."

I nodded.

But my mind was elsewhere.

I was thinking about

Serena.

That rainy night three years ago.

Did she also drink a glass of warm milk prepared by her husband on some ordinary morning?

Were her brakes also "accidentally" tampered with?

In the final moments of her plunge, did she realize what was happening?