A collective scream filled the hall. Mrs. Valeria fell to her knees beside the child, crying his name through tears, while Mr. Andrei stood frozen, unable to react. The guests stepped back, not knowing what to do, as the music abruptly stopped, leaving behind a sinister echo.
Roxana rushed to Matei and, without waiting for anyone, turned his head to the side, trying to open his mouth. She felt his breath short, irregular, barely perceptible.
“Call an ambulance!” she shouted, but no one moved. The people seemed paralyzed by panic. So she rolled up her sleeves and, without hesitation, began to give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
A few seconds later, the sound of an ambulance siren could be heard in the distance. But it was too late. The doctors who arrived on the scene could do nothing. Their statement was cold, brief, and merciless: “Cardiac arrest.”
Valeria fainted on the spot. Andrei, with vacant eyes, just shook his head. Within hours, little Matei’s body was placed in a white coffin, in the hall where just a day before there had been dancing and laughter. Roxana did not leave that place. She couldn’t believe it.
That night, the wind blew fiercely over the gardens. Roxana sat in her attic room, shivering. Something was troubling her. She had dreamed of Matei, who had reached out to her and said in a faint voice, “I’m not sleeping, Aunt Roxi… it’s dark here.”
She woke up suddenly, covered in sweat. She couldn’t ignore that dream. An unknown force pushed her to go down. She put on a coat over her work uniform and sneaked outside. In the yard, everything was deserted, only the moonlight reflected off the cold marble of the crypt in the corner of the garden.
With trembling hands, Roxana began to dig beside the fresh grave. The earth was soft, barely packed. “Lord, forgive me if I’m wrong…” she whispered. After a few minutes of effort, she heard a sound that froze her blood — a faint whimper coming from below.
With one last effort, she pushed aside the wooden lid. Matei was there. Pale, but alive. His eyes slowly opened and he took a deep breath, as if waking from a nightmare.
Roxana burst into tears and held him close. She didn’t know how it was possible, but the child had been buried alive.
Within minutes, she pulled him out of the grave and wrapped him in her coat. When she reached the main gate, the guard looked at her incredulously, but the child breathing in her arms dispelled any doubt.
The next morning, the news spread like wildfire. The Stănescu family became the main subject of all the newspapers. Doctors, police, the press — everyone was trying to understand how such a thing was possible.
But Roxana did not want glory. She withdrew into silence, holding Matei’s hand, like a true mother. Mrs. Valeria embraced her, crying, promising that their lives would never be the same again.
Since then, in the garden of the mansion, under the old linden tree, it is said that sometimes the crystal laughter of a child can be heard.
A lively laugh. A laugh saved by a simple, yet brave heart.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher do not assume responsibility for the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed belong to the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
