It was in ancient times, when the Prague suburb of Žižkov was not yet densely populated, and at its foot, where Rieger Gardens now spread, the first more opulent buildings began to rise. Among them, at the lower tip of these future gardens, a magnificent summer house grew from the fertile ground, its walls promising refuge from the city bustle and its gardens inviting rest. Around the construction, the clinking of hammers, the creaking of pulleys, and the voices of workers constantly echoed, as they respectfully listened to the instructions of the young builder.

He was a man full of vigor and ambition, whose mind was as sharp as his eyes. It was known that he had a brilliant future ahead of him. Among the many masons who worked under his leadership, one master mason stood out, an honest and hardworking man who had only one, but all the more precious, joy – his daughter Terezka. Terezka was a girl like a flower, with eyes the color of forget-me-nots and a smile that could brighten even the grayest day. She often brought her father lunch to the construction site, and so it happened that her beauty did not go unnoticed by the young builder.

The builder, initially enchanted by her simple beauty and kindness, began to seek her out, speak with her, and gradually love was born between them. The young builder promised Terezka the world, and above all, marriage, once the summer house was completed. It was like a dream come true for her. He, noble and educated; she, the daughter of a simple mason. She believed his every word, every glance. One cold autumn day, when fog from the Vltava hung over Prague, he gave her a silk scarf, delicate and colorful like butterfly wings. “When the summer house stands in its full beauty,” he whispered to her, “you will be its lady, and this scarf will remind you of my eternal love.” Terezka pressed the scarf to her chest with love, and her heart rejoiced with happiness.

Days passed, the walls of the summer house rose higher and higher, roofs were covered with tiles, and opulent halls began to appear inside. However, with each completed part of the construction, the young builder’s love for Terezka cooled. His ambitions grew with every new success, and Terezka, the daughter of a simple mason, suddenly seemed to him an obstacle on his path to higher society. Her kindness and devotion appeared to him as bonds that tied him down.

As the day of final inspection approached and the last brick was laid, the builder’s heart hardened like stone. He needed to get rid of Terezka, and forever. He devised a trick. One evening, when darkness had already spread over Prague and most of the workers had gone home, he asked Terezka to go with him to the cellar of the summer house. He claimed he needed to show her something there, something important for their shared future. Terezka, full of hope and trust, obediently followed him into the dark depths of the new building, where the smell of lime still mingled with the cold of the earth.

In the deep, damp cellar, where darkness swallowed even the last remnants of daylight, the builder’s smile turned into a cold mask. Without a single word of pity, without a single hesitation, he took the silk scarf he had once given her as a symbol of love, and strangled her. Terezka didn’t even have time to defend herself; only her eyes filled with disbelieving horror before they extinguished forever. Her body, just moments before full of life and love, fell to the ground. The builder then, with his characteristic cold-bloodedness, dug a grave right there, in the cellar floor, and laid the unfortunate girl’s body into it. He carefully covered his tracks so that no one would ever discover his terrible deed.

Terezka’s father searched for her in vain. He walked through Prague, asking at every turn, searching every alley, every corner of the construction site, but Terezka had vanished without a trace, as if the earth had swallowed her. His heart was wracked with grief, but he never received an answer. Meanwhile, the builder continued with his life, climbing the social ladder, but it was said that his eyes never regained their former brightness and that a shadow forever resided in them.

The story of the unfortunate Terezka, however, did not disappear. Although her body rested in a forgotten grave, her spirit hovered over the summer house. In the garden, which over time grew into breathtaking beauty, a stone statue of a woman appeared. It was a beautiful statue, but its face bore traces of deep sorrow and longing. People began to whisper that it was the statue of the unfortunate Terezka, an eternal reminder of futile love and betrayal. It was even rumored that a confession note was hidden within the statue, perhaps from the builder who confessed to the deed at the end of his life, or from someone who knew about it. Many curious people tried to break the statue in the hope of finding the truth, but they found nothing in it. Only stone and emptiness, just like in the heart of the betrayed father.

Although the secret remained unspoken, Terezka’s memory survived the ages. The large and beautiful villa that eventually emerged from that summer house and still dominates the lower Žižkov tip of Rieger Gardens was ultimately named “Tereza.” As if by this name, the ancient injustice was to be atoned for, as if to give the girl, from whom everything was stolen, at least an eternal place in the name of the house that became her fate. And in the garden, hidden among trees and bushes, that stone statue of a woman still stands today, believed to be the statue of the unfortunate Terezka, a silent witness to an ancient crime and a symbol of futile love, etched into stone and into the memory of Prague.