My dead husband is Texting me

My name is Aisha Karim. I was the wife of Kelvin Mboya, a powerful and wealthy businessman. I believed my marriage was real. Until the day I decided to surprise him. I wore the red dress he once said made me look unforgettable. I bought a small cake and a gift, hoping to fix the distance that had grown between us over the past months. I went to his office without telling him. But when I opened the door… My world collapsed. Kelvin was holding Lydia, his secretary. His hands were on her waist, their faces inches apart. The cake slipped from my hands and hit the floor. “Aisha, it’s not what it looks like,” he said quickly. I didn’t wait to hear more. I turned and walked out. I left them both alive in that office. That was the last time I saw my husband. That night I went to my father, Mr. Juma Karim. When he saw my tear-filled eyes, he knew something was wrong. “Who hurt you, my daughter?” he asked gently. I told him everything. About Kelvin. About Lydia. About how I left them together. He was silent for a long time before speaking. “Do not go back there tonight,” he said calmly. “You are angry and hurt. Rest first. Tomorrow we will decide what to do. And Aisha—be careful. Anger can put you in serious trouble.” I didn’t understand what he meant. Until the next morning. My phone rang. “Mrs. Aisha… we’re sorry to inform you. Your husband died last night.” I dropped the phone. I had just seen him. I left him alive. When I arrived at his house, the police were already there. So was his family. His mother, Mrs. Victoria Mboya, walked straight toward me. “Stop pretending to cry,” she said coldly. “You killed my son.” “I didn’t!” I said, trembling. But no one listened. The police took me aside for questioning. “What time did you leave the office?” one officer asked. “I left him alive with Lydia,” I replied. But then they showed me the security footage. The cameras showed me walking out. No one else was seen leaving after me. That made me the last person to see Kelvin alive. The main suspect. I tried to explain about Lydia. But she said calmly, “I left earlier. I wasn’t there.” It became her word against mine. And his family believed her. Because I was the angry wife. The betrayed wife. The wife with a motive. I returned to my father, shaking. “They want to arrest me,” I said. He held my shoulders firmly. “Listen carefully,” he said. “Do not speak to anyone without a lawyer. Do not go back to that house. From now on, every step you take must be careful. We will fight this.” Three days after Kelvin’s funeral, something impossible happened. It was midnight. My phone vibrated. A new message. From Kelvin’s number. My hands started shaking. I opened it. “Lydia is lying. My family knows the truth. You are in danger.” I stopped breathing. I buried Kelvin with my own hands. I watched his coffin go into the ground. If he is dead… Who is texting me from his phone? And why is he warning me about his own family? That night I realized one thing— I was not just a murder suspect. I was the next target.