Hearing an unexpected rustle from under the sheet, the morgue nurse decided to lift its edge: what she saw there sent chills down her spine

Hearing an unexpected rustle from under the sheet, the morgue nurse decided to lift its edge: what she saw there sent chills down her spine šŸ˜±šŸ˜²

That night, only one employee was working in the morgue — the on-duty pathology nurse. Everything was going as usual: registering new arrivals, checking tags, filling out the logbook. Around two in the morning, they brought in the body of a middle-aged man — no documents, found unconscious in an apartment. The paramedics confirmed cardiac arrest on the way, and he was sent straight to the morgue.

The nurse carefully pulled out the stretcher covered with a sheet and began entering the data into the register. She had long been used to the silence of the morgue, but that night something felt off. An unexplainable sense of presence — as if someone was standing behind her, watching her.

She turned around several times, but the hallway was empty.

Then she thought she heard a short, barely noticeable sound from under the sheet. Not a rustle, not the squeak of stretchers — more like a weak, muffled breath.

She had worked in the morgue for years and knew that bodies sometimes show post-mortem reactions — muscle spasms, small shifts under the sheet. Nothing supernatural, just physiology.

By protocol, she had to check for any remaining signs of life — rare, but there were cases when unconscious people were mistaken for dead. She had witnessed such things herself. So she acted automatically: she had to be sure.

She pulled the stretcher closer, leaned forward, and carefully lifted the edge of the sheet. And what she saw underneath nearly made her pass out šŸ˜ØšŸ˜² Full continuation in the first comment šŸ‘‡šŸ‘‡

Under the sheet lay a man she knew far too well. Her husband — who had told her he was on a business trip in another city and was going to bed after a long day. They had spoken on a video call just a few hours earlier.

But the worst part wasn’t that he was dead.

The worst part was that he wasn’t supposed to be there at all. He was supposed to be hundreds of kilometers away, on a business trip.

Later, the nurse learned the truth.

Her husband had been lying the entire time. In reality, he wasn’t working — his workplace confirmed that he had taken a week off. And he had spent that entire week with his mistress. And he died right there — in her apartment.

He had been brought to the morgue as an ā€œunidentified manā€ while his documents were still being verified.

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