Hansen's eyes widened. The two rescue teams exchanged glances before turning back to me. He seemed hesitant before answering.
“She went to pick lingonberries. Did she want the berries so badly that she was willing to risk her life for them? Or did someone send her to do it? Was it you who wanted it? Do you regret it now that this has happened?”
When they told me the cause of her death, it felt as though a bolt of lightning had struck me. My mind went blank, and for a moment, I couldn't comprehend what I was hearing. The words echoed in my ears, heavy and suffocating. How could such a tragic fate befall her? She had gone out innocently, simply to gather wild vegetables. The realization hit me like a wave crashing over me, leaving me stunned and paralyzed. In that moment, the world around me seemed to fade into a blur, and the weight of grief settled upon me like a suffocating cloak.
In an instant, clarity pierced through the fog of shock and grief. Without a moment's hesitation, I grabbed my phone and began dialing my husband's number with frantic urgency, my fingers trembling against the screen.
“The number you have dialed is not in service.”
Each unanswered ring fueled my desperation, driving me to persist despite the mounting anxiety and dread in my chest. With each failed attempt to reach him, frustration surged through me like a relentless tide, compelling me to redial again and again. Consumed by a mixture of rage and despair, I slammed the phone down with a force at the end.
I couldn't think of anyone else who would make such an unreasonable demand to eat wild vegetables apart from my husband.
I opened WhatsApp, my fingers trembling as I navigated with a mix of dread and determination. Intent on calling him again, my gaze shifted to the top of the screen where his recent status update caught my eye. A familiar profile picture that pierced through my already shattered emotions.
[My dear wife looks stunning!]
In that moment, time seemed to stand still as I stared at the image, my heart sinking with the realization of what it meant. It was a picture of him, smiling warmly alongside her—the woman I had suspected, the mistress he had kept hidden from me. The sight pierced through me like a dagger, unleashing a torrent of emotions—betrayal, disbelief, and a consuming fury that threatened to engulf me.