My husband and I were traveling by train when a woman in bright, colorful clothes sat down next to me, looked at my sleeping husband, and whispered softly, “You need to get off at the next station” 😢😨
At first, I didn’t believe her, but I decided to listen anyway. When I stepped off the train, I turned around and suddenly saw something that filled me with horror. 😱
We were returning from my parents’ house on a night train. He quickly fell asleep on the upper bunk, tired from the trip and the conversations. I sat by the window, staring into the darkness where occasional station lights flickered past. The compartment was quiet, filled only with the steady rhythm of the wheels and his soft snoring.
I’m forty-three. Behind me is a divorce, years of carrying everything on my own, a grown daughter who was raised almost without a father. I had long since stopped believing in beautiful stories about sudden happiness.
I kept men at a distance until he appeared. Calm, neat, attentive. We met by chance in a store, then came coffee, walks, ordinary conversations. He didn’t pressure me, didn’t rush, he listened. He told me he had lost his wife to illness, and I believed him. A few months later, he moved in with me. He helped around the house, cooked dinner, picked me up from work. I felt peaceful beside him.
My daughter treated him cautiously, but I decided it was jealousy and unnecessary worry. When my parents invited us to visit, he suggested we go together. There, he showed his best side: fixed the gate, drove my father to the doctor, was polite and attentive. My parents were pleased, and I finally convinced myself that I hadn’t made a mistake.
We traveled back at night. The compartment was quiet. My husband fell asleep almost immediately. I couldn’t sleep; I was thinking about the future and how unexpectedly everything had fallen into place.
The compartment door opened without a knock. In the doorway stood a dark-skinned woman in a long, bright skirt and a headscarf. She didn’t ask for money or offer to tell fortunes. She looked at me, then at my sleeping husband, and said softly:
— You need to get off at the next station. Just don’t wake your husband, or you’ll regret it.
There was no pleading or joking in her voice. Only certainty. My throat tightened. I don’t believe in superstitions, but for some reason I was afraid. My husband was sleeping deeply and hadn’t heard anything.
The train began to slow down. I grabbed my bag and stepped into the corridor, trying not to make any noise. Already at the door, I turned back — and my blood ran cold. 😱😨 Continued in the first comment 👇👇
I turned around — and saw that my husband was no longer asleep. He was sitting on the bunk, staring directly at me. There was no surprise or confusion in his eyes. Only coldness and irritation, as if I had ruined his plans.
At that moment, footsteps echoed in the corridor. Two men in plain clothes approached the compartment. They asked him to show his documents and called him by a different name.
My husband first tried to smile, then began saying it was a mistake, but his voice was already trembling. That’s when I understood that none of this was a coincidence.
The woman in the bright skirt stood a little farther down the corridor, watching carefully. When our eyes met, she said quietly:
— I recognized him. He’s already been to another city under a different name. He promised love, got married, and then disappeared with money and documents.
It turned out she had crossed paths with him several years earlier. Back then, he lived with a woman, took out loans in her name, transferred property, and then vanished.
After that incident, he began to be searched for in different cities. He had several wives, each of whom believed he was a widower or an unfortunate man with a difficult past. He changed names, documents, and started over again and again.
I stood in the corridor, realizing that I had almost become just another story on that list.
The police officers led him out of the compartment. He tried to look at me, as if expecting me to defend him. But I remained silent. In my mind, I heard my daughter’s words, saw her worried expression, remembered the small inconsistencies I had chosen to ignore.
If it hadn’t been for that woman, I would have woken up one day without money, without a home. And possibly even with debts in my name.
