Exhausted and pregnant, she was humiliated every morning 😢. Her mother-in-law showed no compassion — until one night, something eerie began to happen in the house… and by dawn, nothing would ever be the same again 😨🫣
The first months of my pregnancy were hard — endless nausea, sleepless nights, weakness that made even standing up a struggle. But nothing compared to living under the same roof as my mother-in-law.
She treated me like a servant. Every morning began with shouting, reproaches, and insults. “You’re lazy! You sleep all day! My generation didn’t complain during pregnancy!” And if I dared to say even one word back, she would run to my husband, pretending to cry, claiming I disrespected her.
One morning, just as the sky was beginning to lighten, I finally closed my eyes after another sleepless night. But suddenly, the blanket was ripped off me with a violent tug.
“Get up, lazy girl!” she yelled. “I’m hungry! How long are you going to lie there like a queen?”
Tears filled my eyes. I was dizzy, nauseous, and exhausted. “Maman, please… I don’t feel well,” I whispered.
She snorted. “Oh, spare me your excuses! In my day, women gave birth in the fields and went straight back to work!”
I got up, my legs trembling, and went to prepare breakfast. But inside me, something snapped. I realized I couldn’t go on like this. She needed to learn a lesson — one she would never forget.
That night, when everyone was asleep, I took out a small speaker I used for music. I had prepared something — a quiet recording of whispering voices, soft crying, faint sighs, and the sound of a child weeping. I set the volume low, just enough to sound distant… as if coming from the walls.
At first, nothing happened. Then I heard a creak from her room — she was awake.
The house was silent, except for the faint sobbing drifting from the kitchen. My mother-in-law froze in bed, her eyes wide open in the dark. Then, just as suddenly, the sound stopped. She waited, her heart pounding, convinced she had imagined it.
A few minutes later — the whispers returned. Then a man’s voice, barely audible, murmuring something she couldn’t understand.
She gasped and sat up. “Who’s there?!” she shouted.
No answer. Just a light tapping against the wall… then silence.
By dawn, she still hadn’t slept a single minute.
The next morning, she looked pale and shaken. “Did you… hear something last night?” she asked quietly.
I smiled gently. “No, maman. I didn’t hear anything. Maybe you were dreaming?”
That night, I played the recording again. The whispers floated through the house — a soft, sorrowful lullaby, then a baby’s cry, then silence again.
From the next room, I heard her praying. Her voice trembled as she whispered the words of old blessings, crossing herself again and again. She was convinced her late husband’s spirit had returned.
By the third night, she was terrified. She barely left her room and spoke in hushed tones.
The following morning, she approached me with tears in her eyes. “Something is wrong in this house,” she said. “I feel his presence. Maybe he’s trying to tell me something…”
I looked at her calmly and said softly, “Maybe God is trying to remind you to be kinder. Maybe He’s punishing those who hurt others.”
She stared at me for a long moment — and something in her eyes changed.
From that day on, she was different. No more shouting, no more insults. She started bringing me tea in the mornings, asking how I felt, even offering to help around the house.
And at night, the house was perfectly quiet. No whispers, no cries, no strange sounds.
Because I had turned off the speaker. 😌💫
