In 1990, their daughter went missing during her prom night, and after 22 years, her father discovered an ancient yearbook that left him in shock upon spotting something astonishing inside. …

The path wound through scraggly pines and blooming shrubs, eventually leading to a secluded overlook with a breathtaking view of the river. From behind a large rock, John watched as Samuel selected a spot near the cliff’s edge…

The man glanced around carefully, as if ensuring he was alone, then began digging with the shovel. The rocky soil resisted his efforts, showing the ground hadn’t been disturbed in ages. After digging a hole about a foot and a half deep, Samuel set the shovel aside and knelt beside the hole.

He opened the wooden box and stared at its contents for a long time. From his hiding spot, John couldn’t make out what was inside, but Samuel’s expression was contemplative, almost reverent. His lips moved silently, as if reciting or reliving memories.

He shuffled through papers in his hands, reading each one carefully, taking his time. Finally, Samuel closed the box, but before he could secure the lid, a sudden gust of wind swept across the cliff. Papers from the box scattered in all directions.

Samuel cursed and quickly latched the box to prevent more from escaping, then scrambled to gather the strewn sheets. After collecting them, Samuel placed the wooden box in the hole. He laid the bouquet of white hyacinths on top, then began filling the hole with dirt.

He worked methodically, tamping down the soil and watering it to settle it. Finished, Samuel stood over the unmarked grave for a few moments. Then, in a voice loud enough for John to hear over the river’s rush, he said, «I think you can keep these memories now, Mary.»

The name hit John like a physical blow. He jerked back in shock, his foot slipping on loose pebbles. He caught himself on a tree trunk, froze, and clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle any sound.

His heart pounded so loudly he was sure Samuel would hear. Samuel snapped his head up, scanning the surrounding bushes. «Hey!» he shouted, his voice sharp with suspicion.

«Someone there?» John remained still, barely breathing. Samuel grabbed the shovel and took a few steps toward the bushes where John hid. He paused, listening intently, then took another step forward.

John pressed against the tree trunk, praying the shadows concealed him. After what felt like an eternity, Samuel stepped back. «Just the wind,» he muttered, though he didn’t sound fully convinced.

He cast one more suspicious glance around before gathering his things. Instead of returning the same way, Samuel circled the clearing’s perimeter, as if checking for followers. Finally satisfied, he headed back to the cabin, empty canister and cart in tow.

He propped the shovel against the cabin wall, got in his car, and drove away. John waited, slowly counting to a hundred to ensure Samuel wouldn’t return. When all remained quiet, he cautiously emerged from hiding.

His legs shook, but determination guided him to the freshly turned earth. He needed to know what was in that box. He needed to know why Samuel had spoken his daughter’s name over what disturbingly resembled a grave.

John grabbed the shovel Samuel had left by the cabin and returned to the burial site. He began digging, his movements frantic yet careful. The soil was still damp and gave way easily.

Within minutes, he uncovered the bouquet of white hyacinths, their scent filling the air as he gently set them aside. As John’s shovel struck the wooden box, a voice behind him made his blood run cold. I knew someone was there.

I was right. John turned and saw Samuel standing a few yards away. His face was a mix of rage and triumph…

«You shouldn’t have come back,» Samuel said, advancing slowly. «I saw your car, old man, parked up the hill and looped back through the woods.» «What are you doing?» John gripped the shovel tightly, as both a tool and potential weapon if needed.

«I heard you say my daughter’s name,» he said, his voice steadier than he felt. «What did you bury here, Samuel? What does this have to do with Mary?» Samuel’s face twisted. «You don’t know what you’re talking about.

You don’t belong here.» John turned to the partially unearthed hole, determined to open the box. «I’m going to find out.»

«Stop!» Samuel yelled, pulling out a gun. «Drop the shovel.» John immediately raised his hands, and Samuel lunged forward, trying to snatch the shovel from John’s grasp.

John quickly pulled his phone from his pocket with his free hand. «I’m calling the police. They need to see this.

Go ahead, shoot if you want. I’ll be with my daughter again, but I’m one press away from alerting them.» With surprising speed, Samuel knocked the phone from John’s hand, and it skidded dangerously close to the cliff’s edge.

«No!» John cried. He lunged forward, knocking the gun from Samuel’s hand, and it tumbled over the cliff. Then he dove for the phone, his fingers closing around it just in time before it slipped away.

Without hesitation, he pressed the «SOS» button, knowing it would summon emergency services and send his location. «Stop, Samuel!» John pleaded, backing away from the increasingly unstable man. «The police are on their way.

Just tell the truth. Mary is dead. Nothing can change that now.

Hiding the truth won’t help anyone.» «You don’t understand!» Samuel shouted, his face flushed with emotion. «I have a whole life ahead, my business, my reputation.

I can’t let this ruin everything.» «You killed my daughter!» John demanded outright, his voice trembling. «If you loved her, why did you hurt her?» «She was my only child.»…