The mourning horns sounded through the rain, their sorrow echoing off the old tin roof. In the center of the courtyard stood a yellow coffin resting on two wooden stools. Mourners surrounded it, heads bowed in grief for the young woman who had died during premature labor.
She was only 25.
Since marrying into the family, she had been respectful, kind, and deeply devoted — treating her husband’s parents as her own. Her mother-in-law would often say with pride, “Having a daughter-in-law like her is a true blessing.”
But fate was cruel. Barely a year after the wedding, tragedy struck.
One late night, she doubled over in pain, sobbing. By the time they rushed her to the hospital, her condition had deteriorated beyond saving.
The baby never cried.
And she… slipped away, forever.
Grief consumed the family. The mother-in-law fainted again and again. The father-in-law sat motionless, staring blankly at the smiling photo placed atop the coffin.
When it was time to move the coffin, eight strong men stepped forward. But no matter how hard they tried — it wouldn’t budge. Their faces flushed, veins bulged, arms trembled, but the coffin remained rooted in place.
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
“She must be holding on. Something is unresolved.”
A monk, standing quietly at the side, spoke softly:
“Open the coffin. She may still have something to say.”
The family froze. With trembling hands, they finally unlatched the lid.
Gasps filled the air.
Inside, two dried tear streaks stained her face. Though her eyes were closed, her lashes were still damp — as if she had wept not long ago.
Madam Hong, the mother-in-law, collapsed beside the coffin, clutching her daughter-in-law’s hand. Her cries echoed through the courtyard:
“My child… please, don’t cry anymore. If something is left unsaid, tell me. Please…”
The crowd stood in stunned silence.
Then, suddenly — a gut-wrenching sob broke the stillness.
It was her husband.
He fell to his knees, face buried in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Everyone turned to him in shock.
The mother-in-law’s voice cracked as she cried out:
“Son… what is it? Did she say something to you?”
With tears streaming down his face, eyes red and swollen, he finally looked up and whispered:
“The night before she died… she told me she was afraid of being forgotten.”
At that moment, the weight lifted. The men tried again — and this time, the coffin rose easily into the air.
