At my father’s birthday party, as he was making a wish over his cake, my mother leaned in and whispered something in his ear. My father, a man who cherished his life above all else, jumped from the balcony a moment later. After his death, countless people asked my mother what she had said. Someone even offered a million dollars for her secret. But she remained silent. Until my wedding day. My mother showed up at the ceremony. And whispered that same secret into my fiancé’s ear… 1 My mother became famous after my father died. My dad was known for his fierce love of life. His sudden suicide could only be explained by the words my mother had whispered to him. Everyone wanted to know what they were. Rich women in unhappy marriages offered her a million dollars, hoping to buy the words that could kill. But my mother never spoke. Not even when the police interrogated her. She just lowered her head and remained silent. In the end, she was sentenced to three years in prison for inciting suicide. After handling my father’s funeral, I visited her in prison. “Mom,” I pleaded, “what did you say to Dad? Why did he kill himself?” Through the thick glass partition, her expression was serene. “He didn’t want to live anymore. What does that have to do with me?” Her calm indifference was a knife to my heart. “Dad would rush to the hospital for a paper cut, terrified of an infection,” I said, my voice choked with bitterness. “His birthday wish was always to live to be a hundred, to see me get married and hold his grandchildren. Tell me, why would a man like that suddenly kill himself?” I was heartbroken, but more than that, I was confused. My father was a kind man, and he and my mother had always seemed happy together. Why would she say something to drive him to suicide? What could she possibly have said? In response to my questions, she only gave me a long, deep look. “Stop asking,” she said, her voice flat. “Knowing too much won’t do you any good.” 2 With that, she ended the visit. I went home. The house that was once filled with laughter now held only a black-and-white portrait of my father. A sharp pain pierced my heart, and my confusion deepened. I went into my parents’ room, searching for any clue, any hint of an answer. In the closet, their clothes were neatly folded. My mother had once said that my father looked handsome in white, so he only ever bought white clothes. My mother loved gold, so my father had filled a drawer with gold jewelry for her. My mother’s health was frail, so my father’s nightstand was stocked with all the medications she might need. The more I looked, the less I understood. Every corner of this room screamed of love and happiness. My father had been so good to us. Why would my mother destroy it all? I wanted answers, but after our last conversation, she refused to see me again. Her cold, resolute silence left me heartbroken. I moved out of that house of sorrow and into an apartment with my long-time boyfriend, Alex. In those lonely, helpless days, Alex was my rock. He was gentle and considerate, accepting and caring, wrapping me in his unconditional love. Three years later, we set a date for our wedding. The night before the ceremony, Alex asked me tentatively, “Emma, your mom is out of prison now. This is such an important day for us. Aren’t you going to invite her? Are you still angry with her?” I paused. “I just can’t understand it,” I said honestly. “My dad was such a good person. Why would she want him dead?” Alex didn’t hesitate. “What if it was all a misunderstanding? How could a single sentence really make someone kill themselves? Maybe your dad’s death hit her so hard that she couldn’t bear to talk about it.” He squeezed my hand, his voice gentle. “No matter what, she’s still your mother. A wedding is a huge milestone. You should let her know. She’s the only family you have left in this world. Imagine how hurt she’d be if she found out her only daughter got married without inviting her.” Alex was always like that—kind, thoughtful, always putting others first. In the years of my confusion and despair, he had been my sun, warming me, teaching me how to walk out of the darkness and into the light. His words filled me with a bittersweet warmth. After a moment’s thought, I sent my mother an invitation. 3 The next day was the wedding. To show how much he valued me, Alex had planned a grand, lavish ceremony. The venue was packed with guests, buzzing with excitement. My mother came. I hadn’t seen her in years, and she had gotten thinner. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and the streaks of grey in her hair made her look weary, ancient. Her face was expressionless, her gaze shifting only between me and Alex. It had been so long. I felt like there was a depth to her eyes that I couldn’t penetrate. At the officiant’s invitation, my mother walked onto the stage. Alex, beaming with excitement and happiness, made a promise to her. “Ma’am, thank you so much for coming to our wedding. Please don’t worry. I will take good care of Emma. I’ll spend the rest of my life loving her and making sure she never has to suffer.” As the mood lightened, the officiant held the microphone to my mother. “As the mother of the bride, is there anything you’d like to say to your daughter?” My mother, who should have been offering me her blessings, simply said, “No.” Her voice was calm. “I only have one thing to say to my son-in-law.” With that, she stepped forward, leaned close to Alex’s ear, and whispered. The smile on Alex’s face vanished, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated terror. His eyes darted to me. Then, as if possessed, he bolted towards the hotel balcony. “Alex, stop!” I screamed. He didn’t hear me. He was running as if from a monster, and with a desperate, decisive leap, he threw himself over the railing. THUD! The sound of a heavy impact was followed by a symphony of screams from below. It all happened so fast. By the time anyone reacted, Alex was already lying in a twisted heap in a pool of blood. Silent. Still. 4 Alex was dead. He died at our wedding. Killed by my mother’s words. The guests rushed downstairs, staring in shock and horror at the scene. Alex’s mother collapsed to the ground, cradling his body and weeping hysterically. I felt my heart shatter, my body go limp. The man who had just promised to love me for the rest of his life was now a bloody corpse. I couldn’t accept it. Just then, my mother descended the stairs, her movements slow and deliberate. She calmly tucked a stray hair behind her ear, as if the chaos around her was of no concern. Seeing her, Alex’s father pointed a trembling finger, his voice shaking with rage. “What did you say to my son? Why did he kill himself the moment he heard your words?” Alex’s other relatives and friends joined in, their voices thick with grief and fury. “You venomous witch! Today was supposed to be the happiest day of Alex’s life! Why did you have to come here and ruin it?” “We heard you killed your own husband with a single sentence. We knew you were no good! But Alex insisted we had misunderstood you. He even told us not to judge you, not to talk about what happened to your husband. He was always thinking of you, and this is how you repay him? Are you even human?!” “People like you should rot in prison for the rest of your lives!” Through it all, my mother remained calm, indifferent. “He chose to kill himself. What does that have to do with me?” Her voice was light, as if she were a mere bystander. Alex’s mother, heartbroken, suddenly lunged forward and grabbed my mother by the collar. “You murderer!” she screamed through her tears. “Give me back my son! My son was a kind man his whole life! He never did a single bad thing! He loved your daughter with all his heart, gave her everything! Before the wedding, he begged us to be good to her. He said he wanted to live a happy life with her, have children, grow old together! He was so optimistic, so full of hope for the future! How could he possibly kill himself? Tell me! What did you say to him? Why did you kill him?!” Alex’s mother, always so gentle and loving, had completely broken down. I didn’t stop her. I looked at my mother with utter disappointment, my voice aching with pain. “Why? Wasn’t killing Dad enough? Why did you have to kill Alex too?” My father had been so good to me. Our family had been so happy. But my mother’s words destroyed it all. Then Alex came into my life, his love healing me, making me feel the warmth of a family again. Now, just as we were about to build a new life together, my mother had torn it all down again, killing the man I loved, destroying everything I had ever hoped for. Alex’s death ignited a fire of hatred for my mother that consumed me. She looked at me, a flicker of something—uncertainty?—in her eyes. “You think that of me too?” “I just want to know,” I sobbed. “What did you say to them?” I remembered it clearly now. The day my father died, he had looked at me with that same expression of terror, just like Alex, before he jumped. I had to know. What words could make two kind, optimistic men make such an extreme choice? The guests and onlookers erupted, screaming at my mother. “First your husband, now your son-in-law! You murderer! You don’t deserve to live!” “If you don’t give us an explanation today, we won’t let you leave here alive!” “Tell us! What did you say to them?” Facing the crowd’s accusations, my mother coolly shook off Alex’s mother’s hand. She straightened her collar and surveyed the crowd. “I can say it,” she said, her voice cold. “But do you dare to listen?” The noisy scene fell silent. Everyone was frozen, their faces etched with fear. These were words that killed. Anyone who heard them chose suicide without hesitation. They were curious, but they were also terrified. As everyone stood silent, I stepped forward. “I dare.” Because of a single sentence, the father who adored me and the man who loved me were both dead. I had to know why. Even if it meant my own death, I wasn’t afraid. My mother looked at me, her gaze deep. “Are you sure you won’t regret it?” I nodded. “I’m sure.” Her expression softened slightly. Finally, she leaned in close to my ear and whispered the words. 5 After my mother spoke, all eyes were on me. Just moments before, they had all witnessed Alex jump to his death, his face a mask of terror, right after my mother had whispered in his ear. They were waiting to see my reaction. Waiting to see if I, too, would kill myself. But under their curious and tense gazes, I did nothing strange. I just frowned at my mother. “You’re lying,” I said, my voice firm. “You couldn’t have said that to them.” Faced with my disbelief, my mother’s expression remained placid. “I’ve told you. Whether you believe it or not is up to you.” “If that’s all you said, why would Dad and Alex kill themselves?” I retorted without hesitation. They were both such optimistic, kind men. How could a simple sentence like that drive them to suicide? At that moment, I was certain she was lying to me. But her face was a mask of sincerity. “As I said, they chose to kill themselves. It has nothing to do with me.” My passionate accusations and her calm explanations left the crowd bewildered. They stared at us, their eyes full of suspicion and doubt. Before I could speak again, police cars arrived, sirens wailing. Several officers got out and walked straight to my mother. “We received a call that you are suspected of deliberately inciting someone to commit suicide. This is the second death you’ve been involved in. Please come with us for questioning.” Facing the police again, my mother said nothing. She silently allowed them to handcuff her and lead her to the car. Through the car window, she looked at me, her gaze deep and meaningful, as if there were a thousand things she wanted to say. I had the strangest feeling that there was something she was desperate to tell me, but for some reason, she couldn’t. As I watched, the police car drove away, taking my mother with it. Even after she was gone, the crowd continued to stare at me. When it became clear that I was fine, Alex’s mother approached me, her voice hesitant. “Emma, what did your mother say to you?” 6 In the years after my father’s death and my mother’s imprisonment, Alex had cared for me devotedly, and his mother had treated me like her own daughter. I respected her, and I felt a deep sense of guilt towards her. Looking into her sad, curious eyes, I felt helpless. “My mom just said, ‘Happy wedding day.’ Nothing else.” Alex’s mother frowned, her face a picture of disbelief. “How is that possible? Just now, after she spoke to Alex, his face was full of terror. If that’s all she said, why would he react like that? Why would he kill himself in front of everyone?” Others chimed in. “Yes, we all saw his reaction. Those words wouldn’t have caused such a reaction.” “Besides, who whispers well wishes in someone’s ear? She’s obviously lying.” “That’s right, Emma. Alex was always so good to you. You can’t protect your mother just because she’s a murderer.” “Yes, just tell us what she really said. Don’t cover for her.” Even Alex’s father spoke, his voice grave. “Emma, my son was devoted to you. He never let you suffer. If you have even a shred of genuine feeling for him, you won’t let him die like this, without any answers.” Faced with their accusations, I tried to explain again. “My dad and Alex both died the same way, because of my mother’s words. So, more than anyone, I want to know what she said. Otherwise, I wouldn't have stood up in front of everyone and asked her to tell me. I don't think it was those words either, but she really only said, ‘Happy wedding day.’ I was just confronting her about it, you all heard me!” Because of a single sentence, I had lost the two most important people in my life. I wanted to know why more than anyone. Seeing my firm words and serious expression, the crowd, though still skeptical, said no more. They turned their attention to handling Alex’s funeral arrangements. A celebration had turned into a funeral. My heart had plummeted from heaven to hell. After attending Alex’s funeral, my body exhausted and my heart in pieces, I returned to my childhood home. As I arrived, I found a crowd of people waiting at my door.
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