My Husband Made Me

My husband and his identical twin brother were in an accident out of town.
One dead, one injured. When the news reached us, my sister-in-law was already red-eyed from crying. When I saw my husband walk through the door, alive, the knot of terror in my chest finally loosened.
I started toward him, but he stopped and handed me the urn he was carrying.
"Ava, I'm so sorry. The hospital... they got it wrong. It was Michael who died."
Beside me, my sister-in-laws sobs hitched to a stop.
I pressed my lips together, suppressed a smile, and dutifully clutched the urn to my chest and began to wail.

1
Michael had come home prepared for my questions, my disbelief.
He never expected me to accept his death so easily.
After all, the initial report had said that Matthew, his twin brother, was the one who hadn't made it.
Now, hearing me cry out his name with such heart-wrenching grief, Michael looked visibly unnerved. He made a show of steadying me, and I seized the opportunity, my fingers digging into his arm.
A thick bandage was wrapped around his forearm.
He'd really gone through the trouble. To get rid of the prominent birthmark that so clearly distinguished him from Matthew, he'd carved away his own flesh.
My nails sank into the muscle beneath the bandage. Michael flinched in pain, but when he met my tear-filled eyes, he didn't dare pull away.
He just offered a dry, hollow comfort. "Ava, please, try to be strong. Michael Michael wouldn't want to see you this devastated."
I wiped away a tear. "You're right. I need to pull myself together."
After all, from this day forward, I, Ava, was a widow.
My in-laws passed away years ago, and my husband was "newly deceased."
That meant if I wanted to get rid of the baby in my belly, I didn't need to tell a single soul.

2
People always said the two brothers were impossible to tell apart.
Michael probably thought impersonating his brother would be child's play.
He was wrong.
Even after removing the birthmark, even after mimicking Matthews every mannerism, there were subconscious habits that would always betray him.
Besides, I was his wife. Wed shared a life, a bed. I knew the moment he walked through that door that the man who came back was my husband.
I could recognize him. In this life, and the last.
Unfortunately, in my previous life, I couldnt for the life of me understand why Michael would pretend to be his brother. So Id stubbornly insisted to everyone that he was, in fact, Michael.
He vehemently denied it. His sister-in-law, Amy, called me a shameless homewrecker, accusing me of coveting her man the moment mine was in the ground.
But they both knew the truth. They both knew the one who survived was Michael.
The way people looked at me slowly shifted from pity to disgust.
They thought Id lost my mind, unable to accept my husband's death. Michaels constant denials sent me spiraling into despair.
It wasn't until I discovered I was pregnant that a flicker of hope reignited within me.

3
I thought, if I just had this baby, Michael would have to acknowledge his own child. He couldn't possibly deny who he was then.
And during my pregnancy, Michael did seem to soften. He stopped pushing me away. He even started coming over to take care of me. He still wouldnt admit he was Michael, but I took it as a sign that things were getting better.
I gave birth to a boy.
Michael was ecstatic. For a split second, he forgot his act and blurted out, "You did so well, Ava!"
Exhausted from labor, I finally felt a wave of relief wash over me. Hed finally admitted it. A brother-in-law would never call me by my pet name.
When I woke up again, the baby was gone.
The first thing I saw was Michaels grief-stricken face.
He told me our son had suffered from sudden respiratory distress. The doctors tried, but they couldn't save him.
Once again, he uttered those hollow words.
"Ava, please try to be strong."

4
I left the hospital. And I truly went mad.
Michael moved to the city with Amy.
I became the town crazy lady, the one everyone avoided. My days were spent sitting on a stone by the crossroads, staring into the distance. Whenever someone passed, Id shout, "Michael's back! Michael's back!"
Mischievous children would trail behind me, mimicking my cries in their high-pitched voices. "Michael's dead! Michael's long dead!"
Hearing their laughter, Id reflexively chase after them, screaming, "My baby! Where's my baby!"
They would scatter like birds.
I lived in that hazy nightmare for years.
Until one night, in a fit of madness, I ran out of the house and straight into the path of a passing car. By the time I was found, I was barely breathing. The townspeople had no choice but to call Michael, to tell him to come back and arrange the funeral for his "sister-in-law."
On my deathbed, I saw him one last time.
Maybe it was guilt from seeing the wreck Id become, or maybe he just figured a dying woman was no longer a threat. But at my bedside, Michael confessed everything.
He told me it really was Matthew who had died in the crash. He just couldn't bear to see Amy become a widow at such a young age, so he decided to take his brother's place.
The three of them had grown up together, and both brothers had fallen for Amy. When she chose Matthew, Michael had never gotten over it. The accident, while tragic, had presented him with a twisted opportunity to fix his lifelong regret.
How laughable.
He couldn't stand to see his white moonlight in mourning, so he let me bear the agony of losing a husband?
Then what were all his promises to me when we were dating, when we got married? Were they just him trying to convince himself to let Amy go? Just a way to numb his own pathetic pining?
But the final blow, the one that shattered what was left of my soul, was when he told me my baby hadn't died.
Amy was too frail to have children of her own. So he had taken our son and given him to her to raise.
He even had the audacity to explain, "I just thought it would be better for him to grow up in a complete, healthy family."
Was I supposed to thank them? Thank them for giving the child I bore a "complete home"?
Michael thought I was delirious, that I couldn't hear him.
But in that final surge of life before death, my mind was terrifyingly clear.
Tears of bitter regret slid from the corners of my eyes.
I had wasted my short, miserable life on a man like this.
I didn't even have the strength to lift my hand and slap him. I just lay there, my heart full of hatred, and breathed my last.

5
"Ava, the most important thing right now is to arrange Michael's funeral."
Michael's voice pulled me back from the horrifying memories.
I lifted my gaze to meet his, but his eyes darted away, unable to hold my stare.
After a long moment, I finally spoke, enunciating each word with chilling precision.
"You're right, little brother."
"It's time to let Michael rest in peace."
Since he wanted to be with Amy so desperately, he could spend the rest of his life as Matthew.

6
At the funeral, I was the picture of a heartbroken widow. My cries were so raw they moved everyone present.
They thought I was mourning the dead Michael. In truth, I was mourning the woman I had been in my last life.
Michael and I met in college. We fell in love, and our relationship had always been strong. We first saw each other in a small noodle shop behind campus. I'd ordered a bowl of soup but forgot to tell the owner to hold the green onions. As I was meticulously picking them out with my chopsticks, I felt a pair of eyes on me. I looked up and met a handsome face. His gaze was intense, and I quickly looked away, my cheeks burning.
After a few more chance encounters on campus, he started pursuing me, and I quickly fell for his gentle, attentive nature.
Picking the green onions out of my food became his habit, something he did without thinking every time we ate together.
It wasn't until my death in my last life that I learned this habit didn't start with me.
And I wasn't the only one who didn't eat green onions.
Michael had confessed that the only reason he'd approached me in that noodle shop was because watching me pick out the onions reminded him of Amy. With Matthew and Amy together, he no longer had an excuse to do it for her, so he found a replacement to fill the void.
Hilarious. You'd think he was the patron saint of picking out green onions.

7
Staring at the funeral money burning in the brazier, the flames licking at the paper, a fire of my own raged within me.
On impulse, I stormed back into the house and returned with an armful of trinkets and keepsakes, dumping them all into the fire.
When Michael realized what they were, he lunged forward to pull them out, but the intense heat forced him back.
"Ava what are you doing? Weren't those all gifts from my brother?"
The things I was burning were all the presents Michael had given me while we were dating.
I had once treasured them as symbols of our love, keeping them safe in a box like precious jewels.
Michael knew how much they meant to me, which is why he lost his composure when he saw me burning every last one.
Faced with his frantic question, I sobbed.
"That's exactly why I have to burn them! They were from your brother! Keeping them will only make me think of him and break my heart all over again!"
His anger deflated. "But you can't burn all of them at least keep one or two"
"He's gone! What's the point of keeping his things?" I cut him off. "Your brother is nothing but ash now. Do you really expect a few dead objects to replace a living, breathing person?"
A nearby relative chimed in, trying to console him. "Matthew, just let her do it. Her heart is broken over Michael's passing!"
Michael's mouth opened and closed a few times, but he said nothing.
I watched his face, a mask of strained control, and thought to myself that the relative was wrong. My heart wasn't the one that was broken.

8
Later in the service, I slipped away for some air, having run out of convincing tears.
That's when I overheard Michael and Amy talking.
"Michael," Amy said, her voice laced with insecurity, "if you've decided to take care of me for the rest of your life as Matthew, then why do you keep staring at Ava? Have you forgotten that you're not her husband anymore?"
Michael rushed to explain. "No, it's not like that. I just saw how devastated she was, and I was worried she'd do something drastic."
Amy's lip trembled. "But Matthew is the one who's dead! Michael, I'm so scared. Please don't leave me all alone. You know, if Matthew hadn't confessed his feelings to me first, maybe we"
Seeing her tears, Michael pulled her into a comforting embrace, murmuring sweet nothings.
Of course.
Amy, the same woman who in my past life had called me a homewrecker without batting an eye, had known all along that the man who came back was Michael.
But when he claimed to be Matthew, she didn't correct him. She played along.
Perhaps to her, it didn't matter which brother she ended up with. Both of them were utterly devoted to her, after all.
And who wants to be a young widow?
It was Matthew I felt sorry for. Not only was his grave marked with the wrong name, but his woman was already whispering sweet nothings to his brother. I wondered if he was turning in his grave, a shining green halo over his head.
I turned and walked away, my hand in my pocket, fingers tracing the thin edges of my household registration book.
To make his lie official, Michael had used his own ID for the cremation.
And I had already taken his death certificate to the county clerk's office.
My marital status had been officially changed. From "Married" to "Widowed."

9
After the funeral, I went to the hospital in the city.
In my last life, I didn't realize I was pregnant until the morning sickness became undeniable. That child became my obsession. But until the day I died, I only ever saw him for that one fleeting moment after his birth.
I'll just have to accept that we were not fated to be mother and son. This time, I refused to let him become a chain binding me to Michael.
After scheduling the procedure, I was about to leave the hospital when a voice called out behind me.
"Ava?"
I turned to see a figure in a white coat hurrying toward me. "It really is you!"
"Ryan," I smiled and nodded at him. "Professor."
"It's been so long!" Ryan's face lit up with genuine surprise. "What brings you to the hospital?"
His eyes fell to the paperwork in my hand, and his expression shifted to one of understanding. "Oh! Congratulations!"
I didn't correct him, just offered a small smile in return. After a few minutes of catching up, I made to leave, but Ryan stopped me.
"Hey, my shift is almost over. Wait for me, let's grab dinner."
I was about to politely decline when he added, "My mom was just talking about you the other day."
Ryan's mother. My college professor. My mentor, who had been furious with me for giving up a full scholarship to grad school to follow Michael back to this small town and get married.
I hesitated for a moment, then stopped walking.
Ryan and I sat down at a restaurant. He must have sensed my melancholy because he started recounting funny stories from our college days, trying to cheer me up. But with every story, I felt a growing wave of regret. The decision to marry Michael right after graduation felt more and more foolish.
Noticing my darkening expression, Ryan trailed off, looking embarrassed. Seeing him scratch his head awkwardly, I couldn't help but let out a small laugh.
He breathed a sigh of relief. "There's that smile. Pregnant women shouldn't be frowning all day."
Just then, a sharp voice cut through the air.
"Ava!"

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