Remarrying the Senior Official

Five years into our marriage, my husband died from a sudden asthma attack, leaving me and our son utterly alone in the world.
My friends pitied me, a young widow. My parents urged me to take our son and remarry quickly.
But I refused. I was determined to stay and honor my husband's memory.
Then, on the third anniversary of his death, I overheard my father-in-law in a furious argument with my brother-in-law.
"David was the one with asthma, David was the one who died! But you... you faked your own death, all to take care of his widow. You threw away your own family for her. Was it worth it?"
"For three years, Lena has mourned you, raising Leo all by herself. You gave your niece a home, but have you ever stopped to think? The day you decided to 'die,' Leo lost his father, too."
In that moment, a chill washed over me, so cold it felt like my blood was turning to ice. I finally understood. The man who died three years ago wasn't my husband, Daniel. It was his identical twin brother, David.
My three years of devoted mourning were nothing but a cruel joke.
That night, I called my parents.
"Mom, Dad," I said, my voice firm. "I'll remarry."
1
After my husband's supposed death, his parents were consumed with guilt. They couldn't even look me in the eye, catering to my every need, terrified that I would take their grandson and remarry, severing their last link to their son.
My own parents, meanwhile, were constantly trying to set me up on dates. "You can't be a widow for the rest of your life," they'd say.
But I was stubborn, immovable. I insisted on honoring Daniel's memory. I even reassured my in-laws that I would never let our son call another man "Dad."
For three years, I endured the hardship and exhaustion of being a single mother, gritting my teeth through every lonely day.
But then came the third anniversary of his death.
And I overheard my father-in-law yelling at the man I knew as my brother-in-law, David.
"Daniel Ford! It was your brother who had asthma since we were in the womb, your brother who passed away! Why did you have to stage your own death and steal his identity?"
Daniel Ford? That was my husband's name.
Stage your own death?
I stood frozen, unable to process it, when the other man's voice cut through the air.
"Dad, my sister-in-law was pregnant at the time. How could she have handled that kind of shock? As for Lena... I gave her a son. She won't have to spend the rest of her life childless. That's enough."
"From that day on," he continued, his voice cold and resolute, "I decided to take on my brother's responsibility of caring for his wife. As for the identity of Daniel Ford, let it be buried forever."
I couldn't bear to listen to another word. My limbs felt like ice, and a sharp, piercing pain throbbed in my head.
So, it wasn't my husband who had died. It was his twin.
And the man who should have been my partner, my love, had faked his own death to take care of another man's wife, abandoning me and our son without a second thought.
Tears finally streamed down my face, hot and furious.
Daniel had been my savior. He had pulled me from the darkest time in my life. After I was kidnapped, my reputation in our small town was ruined, but he didn't care. He got down on one knee and proposed, swearing he would love me forever.
And for five years, he had. He treated me like a queen, never letting me suffer the slightest grievance. Everyone said I had married the most devoted man in the world. I was the envy of every woman in town.
That was why I had chosen to remain his widow.
Now, I saw how pathetic I had been.
Daniel had always been perfectly healthy. He never even caught a cold. How could he have died from an asthma attack?
It was all an act. He had put on a three-year performance, all to take care of the woman he truly loved.
And what about me and our son? What were we to him?
I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle a sob and fled.
Back in my room, the noise woke our son, Leo. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. I looked at his small face, a perfect miniature of Daniel's, and my heart shattered.
How could Daniel, his own father, be so cruel as to let his son grow up thinking his dad was dead?
Seeing the grief on my face, Leo looked at me with heartbreaking sympathy. "Mommy, is Daddy pretending he doesn't know you again?"
His words hit me like a physical blow. I remembered how, after Daniel reappeared as "Uncle David," Leo would run to him, crying "Daddy!" I had always gently corrected him, telling him it was his uncle, not his father.
I thought it was just a child's wishful thinking, his inability to distinguish between two identical faces. I never imagined that I was the one who was blind.
My son's eyes had been clear all along. He always knew his own father. What he couldn't understand was why, overnight, his daddy refused to recognize him.
No wonder "Uncle David" had been so kind to us. He bought Leo gifts, checked in on him constantly, brought us groceries, and even secretly gave us money. But the moment Leo called him "Daddy," he would become stern, instantly correcting him.
Everyone said he was the best uncle in the world, more attentive than most fathers. Before I knew the truth, I had been so grateful, promising myself I would repay his kindness one day.
Now, the irony was nauseating.
He was Leo's father. Wasn't it his duty to be good to his own son? How could he do all those things without his conscience tearing him apart?
A bitter taste filled my mouth. The Daniel I knew was well and truly dead.
He had buried himself.
And my three years of mourning him had officially ended our relationship.
After composing myself, I looked at my son. "Leo," I said softly, "what if Mommy remarries? What if I find you a new daddy? Would you be okay with that?"
"Mommy, I don't know why Daddy keeps pretending not to know me," he said, his little voice wise beyond his years. "But if you don't want him anymore, then I don't want him either. Wherever you go, I'll go with you. If Daddy won't protect you, I will!"
Feeling my sorrow, Leo threw his arms around my neck, his small hands patting my back.
At that, a fresh wave of tears escaped. "Okay," I whispered, holding him tight.
I picked up the phone and called my parents. The moment they answered, they launched into their usual speech.
"Lena, honey, since Daniel passed, Jacob Vance has been to the house a dozen times to ask for your hand. You've known each other since you were kids, and he's a Captain now. Why are you so stubborn? Why won't you just..."
"Mom, Dad," I cut in. "I've changed my mind. I'll do it. I'll remarry."
There were five seconds of stunned silence, then an eruption of joyous disbelief.
"Are you serious? Oh, that's wonderful! We'll call him right away and start planning! Don't you worry, Jacob has promised us over and over that he'll treat Leo like his own son. All you have to do is be happy."
I could feel their excitement through the phone. They had worried about me for three long years. My devotion to Daniel had disappointed them time and again.
Not anymore.
The next morning, I took Leo downstairs for breakfast. Daniel was fussing over his "sister-in-law" and niece, a perfect picture of a happy family. Before, I had envied her, imagining Daniel would have treated me with the same care if he were still alive. Now, the scene just made me sick.
My eyes stung, but I refused to cry. There was no one left to wipe my tears.
Daniel caught sight of my pale face and served me and Leo some bacon. "You should eat more, Lena," he said, his tone casual and concerned, the perfect brother-in-law. "Daniel is gone, but you have to think of your son."
He spoke as if the dead man he mentioned wasn't himself.
"It's okay, Uncle," Leo piped up, using his fork to put a piece of bacon on my plate. "I can help Mommy."
The word "Uncle" struck Daniel like a bolt of lightning. He froze, knocking over his glass with a clatter.
It was the first time Leo had ever called him that. For three years, no matter how much Daniel had corrected him, Leo had stubbornly called him "Daddy."
"Leo," he said, struggling to keep his voice steady. "You... you always thought of me as your dad before. What changed?"
Leo smiled a small, sad smile. "Uncle, I was just a little kid before. I get it now. My daddy died three years ago. Don't worry, I won't make that mistake again."
Daniel stared, speechless. Finally, he managed a hollow laugh. "Oh. Well, that's good."
But his eyes darted between me and Leo, searching for a clue, his fork hovering over his plate, untouched. We ignored him, eating our breakfast in silence. His anxiety grew, his gaze constantly flicking toward us.
"Even though I'm not Leo's father," he finally said, testing the waters, "I love him like my own son. Don't be such a stranger. We're family. If you ever need anything, just ask me. You don't have to carry everything by yourself."
I forced a bitter smile. Was he regretting it now that his son no longer called him "Daddy"? But he was the one who chose to fake his death, to abandon his child.
I put down my fork and stood up, taking Leo's hand. I didn't thank him for his "care," as I usually did. Instead, I looked him straight in his shocked eyes.
"You're right, David," I said, using his brother's name. "No matter how close we are, you're not Leo's real father. We'll be just fine on our own."
The next day, I went to the department store. I bought Leo the milk candies and pastries he'd been craving, and then I went to the bridal section. I pointed to a stunning crimson dress and asked the clerk if I could try it on.
Stepping out of the dressing room, I stared at my reflection, surprised at how much younger I looked.
"Is this for your wedding?" the clerk gushed. "Red is so festive! Of all the women who have tried on this dress, you're the first to make it look so beautiful."
But I silently took it off and pointed to a simple, elegant ivory dress instead. "I'll take this one," I said.
A widow, I'd been told, shouldn't wear a celebratory color for her second wedding.
As I left the store, my arms full of bags, I ran right into Daniel, who was out shopping with his sister-in-law.
He froze, then gave me an awkward greeting. "Lena? What are you doing out?"
In the three years since his "death," I had barely left the house. Seeing me out shopping, laden with bags, clearly surprised him. I mumbled an excuse, trying to brush past him.
But as I did, he caught a glimpse of the dress bag. His expression turned grave. We had bought our wedding things in this very store. But back then, my dress had been crimson.
Now, the dress in my bag was a subtle ivory.
Why would a widow be buying a wedding dress?
He stood there for a long time, so lost in thought that even his sister-in-law noticed something was wrong.
That evening, when I brought Leo home from school, Daniel was waiting at our door, holding a brand-new backpack. The tag from the expensive international store was still attached.
"Leo, your uncle got you a new backpack as a present for getting perfect scores on your test. Do you like it?"
Leo looked at me, then shook his head at Daniel. "Thank you, Uncle, but I like the old one Mommy made for me."
The warm smile on Daniel's face shattered. Panic flickered in his eyes.
I sent Leo inside and blocked Daniel's path. "We can't keep taking things from you. You don't need to buy him anything else."
He looked anxious, almost desperate. "Lena, I'm his uncle. It's my duty to take care of you both. Don't be like this."
I just laughed, a cold, empty sound.
He frowned, unsettled. "I'm still your brother-in-law. Do you have to have this attitude with me?"
I stared at him, my gaze boring into him, wondering how he had the audacity. "You said it yourself. You're my brother-in-law. Not my husband. You have no right to question my attitude."
My behavior, combined with Leo's, finally made him snap. He reached for my arm, his voice rising. "What's going on, Lena? Why have you changed overnight?"
I stepped back, out of his reach. "I'm your sister-in-law. Watch yourself." Then I went inside and shut the door in his face.
Daniel stood on the porch, silenced. For three years, even while living as David, his life hadn't really changed. He still cared for me and Leo, our relationship still intimate and familiar. My warning was the first time he was forced to realize that we were no longer what we once were. He had to keep his distance.
That night, Daniel rushed out and spent all his savings on three large tins of malted milk powder. He planned to bring them over the next morning, to apologize, to do whatever it took to fix things with us.
He didn't know it was our last night in that house.
At dawn the next day, Leo and I, with all our luggage, were driven to the military base.
As we entered, the young soldier at the gate smiled and called me Mrs. Vance. He said I was beautiful and my son was adorable, and that their Captain was a lucky man.
I smiled back.
For three years, I had worn nothing but drab colors. I barely ate meat. I lived like a nun, and my son, out of sympathy, had joined me, his face always pale.
Now, that was over. Even Leo's face was bright with anticipation for his new father.
My fianc, Captain Jacob Vance, had spared no expense for our wedding reception. He'd ordered dozens of tables of food from the best restaurant in the city and invited the entire base. He even sent men into town to announce that anyone who came to offer congratulations would receive wedding candy. Every detail was a testament to how much he valued me.
Meanwhile, back at the Ford house, Daniel waited with his peace offerings. He waited and waited, but Leo and I never came down for breakfast.
He looked up at our window, a sense of unease creeping over him. He went upstairs with his gifts and knocked, but there was no answer. The unease grew into dread. He threw his shoulder against the door, breaking it open.
The rooms were empty.
In the three years since his fake death, I had been a ghost in that house, either praying for his soul or lost in sorrow. I almost never went out. Where could we have gone so early in the morning?
The memory of the ivory dress flashed in his mind. The certainty he'd felt just a day ago vanished.
He rushed out, intending to find my parents, but was intercepted by one of his old army buddies, who dragged him toward the base.
"It's the Captain's wedding day!" the man cheered. "We have to be there to celebrate!"
"I heard the bride's first husband died," the friend chattered on. "Left her and her son in a tough spot. It's a real blessing she found our Captain. A match made in heaven."
Daniel, his mind a chaotic mess, barely heard him. He just nodded along.
It wasn't until they entered the base and he heard the chorus of congratulations"To Captain Vance and his bride, Lena, a hundred years of happiness!"that the words finally registered. He stopped dead in his tracks, as if struck by lightning.
He grabbed his friend's shoulder, his eyes wide with panic. "The bride's name is Lena? Which Lena?"
Before the man could answer, I emerged from the main hall, holding hands with Jacob on one side and Leo on the other, walking straight into Daniel's look of utter disbelief.

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