The Widow

She parked the car at the rear of the cemetery. With a bunch of flowers in hand, she got off and made her way to her husband’s grave. A month earlier, her husband had died in a car accident.She could see a woman, also dressed in black, stooping over her husband’s grave. She seemed to be crying.
As the woman saw her coming, she stood up, wiped away tears and moved aside. 

Without a word, she placed the flowers on the top of the grave, stepped back and stood beside the woman.

“I know you, but you do not know who I am, he must have never told you about us”, the woman said.

Silence.

“We shared something special. He was my soulmate. A pity I met him after he was married”.

Still silence.

The woman looked at her. A rigid face, too rigid , too frozen for someone who had lost her husband, for someone who had just learnt her husband was cheating on her.

“Doesn’t this rattle you a bit?” the woman coaxed, a bit irked that she was not getting the reaction she had thought she would receive.

“I do not care. He is dead now”.

Saying that , she started to walk away.

But then she stopped. Turned.

She looked at her husband’s lover. A piercing, cold gaze.

“You should not have texted him that night. And you see what happened? The brakes of his car failed the next morning. What a coincidence!”.

She smiled and walked away.

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