Someone Kept Throwing Eggs at

1. A Broken Tradition

Every Sunday, I visited my husband Owen’s grave, seeking solace after his sudden heart attack a year ago. Twenty-five years together, gone in an instant. The cemetery was my sanctuary—until things changed.

2. Vandalism and Grief

I started finding raw eggs smashed on his gravestone. At first, I thought it was a cruel joke. “Who would do this?” I asked, wiping it clean. But it kept happening, and my sorrow deepened. The cemetery staff couldn’t help. It felt personal, as if Owen was being targeted even in death. “What do you want?” I cried into the empty cemetery.

3. A Painful Discovery

On the anniversary of Owen’s death, I caught the culprit—my sister, Madison, with an egg in hand. “It was you!” I shouted. Her confession left me stunned: “We had a five-year affair, Emma. He promised me everything but left me with nothing.” In shock, I asked, “Are you lying?” Her response: “Check his will.”

4. Finding Peace

Madison’s daughter, Carly, later revealed her mother’s jealousy. Though Madison’s betrayal stung, I chose not to let it taint my memories. “Goodbye, Madison,” I said. “You won’t take him from me.”