He Faked His Death To Be With Her
When it was my turn, I spoke without inflection.
When I was twenty-five, my husband gave me his heart.
The room went instantly silent. No one needed the details. The quiet that followed was profound, the kind that settles after a shared tragedy.
Even after forty years, the thought of him still brought that familiar, sharp ache to my chest.
I pushed myself up, ready to retreat to my room, when a new residenta woman who had only arrived a few weeks agospoke up.
Funny thing is, the year Ill never forget is the first year I was with my husband. I told him I wanted a real life, a real title.
She paused, taking a slow sip of her lukewarm tea.
He heard me, and the next day, his wife conveniently suffered a sudden cardiac episode. He faked giving her his heart and staged his own death. His wife mourned him for forty years, believing he was her sacrifice. Meanwhile, we lived out our lives, gray and surrounded by children and grandchildren.
Her eyes were fixed on me as she spoke, and the malice in them was a dark, bottomless well.
In that moment, I recognized her. Sienna Lowe. Rhyss secretary from four decades ago.
1
The shock was a physical blow. I passed out.
When I opened my eyes again, the first thing I saw was Rhys. He was dressed in a cheap Santa suit, holding out a small, festive gift.
Eliza, Merry Christmas! Go on, open it. Tell me you love it.
The scene was terrifyingly familiar.
In my past life, the object inside that cheerfully wrapped box had induced a cardiac episode. When I woke up in the hospital, I received the news of his death. His sacrifice.
Now, I looked at his face, vibrant and nearthe face I had mourned for forty years. But beneath the relief of seeing him alive, Siennas words echoed: Induced cardiac episode... staged his own death...
My hand hovered mid-air.
Finally, under the expectant gaze of the man I loved, my fingers landed on the ribbon.
I slowly unveiled the box.
The contentsan object identical to the one in my memorysat silently on the velvet lining.
In the same instant, the familiar, crippling pain seized my heart. My vision tunneled, and Rhyss panicked face began to swim before me...
I woke up to the smell of disinfectant and the sound of quiet sobbing.
My mother-in-law, Mrs. Fenton, held my hand, her voice thick with tears.
Eliza, you have to hold on... Rhys... he left his heart for you. He wants you to live a full life...
Everything was exactly as it had been in the last life.
Except this time, I didn't cry. My face was unnervingly blank.
The circle of friends and family around my bed watched my dry-eyed silence. Their sympathy curdled into confusion, then into a silent, communal accusation.
How could you not weep?
How could you be so calm?
He gave his life for you!
Ignoring their protests, I ripped off the monitors and rushed home.
I tore through the house in a frantic search. Drawers, closets, old journals, junk boxes...
Finally, hidden deep in the files on his old desktop computer, I found a purchase history. Following the record was an unfamiliar delivery address.
I drove there immediately.
It was a quiet suburban neighborhood, the house warm and comfortable. I didnt see anyone, but a neighbor emerged to take out the trash, giving me a friendly, assessing look.
You looking for the couple in 302? Theyre the sweetest thing. The neighbor chatted easily, tossing her bag into the bin.
I remember once, it was pouring rain, and he worried his wife would slip. He actually took two hours off work just to lay non-slip mats from the garage door to the front path.
And he never comes home from the grocery store without a little bunch of daisiesher favorites...
I listened in silence, every word falling like a drop of ice.
Non-slip mats in the rain.
Her favorite flowers.
Rhys had done those things for me, too. After my diagnosis, during that rainy season, he had silently lined our walkway. He had always remembered to bring home a bouquet of my favorite white lilies.
The details I had cherished as symbols of a unique, irreplaceable love were nothing more than a well-used script. They were not for me, but for the role of Wife with a Weak Heart.
I sat back in my car and closed the door. The world was suddenly and terribly quiet.
The steering wheel was cold in my hands. Where was I supposed to go? What was I supposed to believe? On what foundation had forty years of mourning and heart-wrenching loss been built?
How much was sincere love, and how much was a performance?
My phone screen flickered to life. A notification.
It was a new post from a profile Id added years ago, someone I didn't know but hadn't bothered to delete.
The picture was a casual street view, tagged in a distant coastal town. The caption was simple:
New place is set up. She loves the ocean.
A profound chill ran through me. That coastal town was the exact place Rhys and Sienna had moved to.
In the previous life, this profile had also been on my friends list. He rarely posted, but when he did, it was always a glimpse into a peaceful, ordinary married life: grocery runs, watching old movies on a rainy day, tending to the flower pots on the balcony...
The words were full of the quiet smoke and warmth of a simple, treasured life. I had no idea who he was, but Id always thought, If my Rhys were still here, he would be like this.
Id never deleted the stranger's account. Sometimes, Id even give a silent 'Like,' hoping to borrow a sliver of that illusory warmth to soothe my own endless desolation.
I hadn't known.
That was him.
Rhys Fenton. He was living the life I had desperately wantedand loving another woman with the authenticity I craved.
2
The next thing I knew, I was on a flight to that distant coastal town. Forty years of agony demanded an answer.
Following the information Id gathered, I found the coffee shop owned by one of Siennas friends. Hearing I was an old acquaintance, the friend greeted me warmly.
Before I even had to ask, she began talking about how Rhys and Sienna met.
Rhys and Sienna were college sweethearts, practically! Well, he was two years ahead, but they met at orientation and theyve been in touch ever since.
It wasnt until last year they decided to finally make it official. Sienna loves the coast, so Rhys bought this beautiful oceanfront house. Said he wanted to spend the rest of his life here with her.
And theyd barely moved in when Sienna got pregnant. Rhys was ecstatic! He said this was true peace, and they had to hurry up and make it all legitimate for her and the baby.
I learned they had known each other for so long. They had planned to grow old here all along. Sienna was already pregnant.
The friend kept talking about the details of their courtship, but my mind had slipped back to my past life.
Rhys and I had almost had a child, too. But because of my heart condition, the doctor strongly advised against it.
Rhys had been silent for a long time. Then hed held me and said, We wont keep it. I only need you to be safe.
I was deeply moved, and profoundly guilty. So guilty Id considered gambling with my life to carry the baby to term.
But then, I overheard a phone call between him and his mother.
Yes, I messed with the timing, so what? Shes pregnant now. I just have to coax her, and shell be too soft-hearted to end it! Whats wrong with wanting a child?
In that moment, the world fell silent. I only heard the heavy, sickening thump of my own heart.
The tender husband before my eyes warped into a stranger I didnt know at all.
I smashed everything within reach and screamed at him. I called him selfish, a liar, a man who didnt care about meonly saw me as a means to an end.
After his initial panic, his face twisted into the rage of a cheat exposed. He spat the words out.
A woman on borrowed time like you... if you can't even give me an heir, what was the point of this marriage?
All my fury froze. I looked at him as if he were a monster.
Then a sudden, violent spasm gripped my abdomen. A warm gush of liquid soaked my skirt and the chaotic, broken floor.
I lost the baby.
In the hospital room, his parents arrived.
In front of them, Rhys dropped to his knees, slapping his own face, again and again.
He sobbed that he had been momentarily insane, that he desperately wanted our child, that he was terrified of losing me, and it had made him lose his mind. He was wrong, he knew it, and he begged me to forgive him, promising he would only focus on my health from now on.
He hit himself hard, and his cheek quickly swelled. His parents tried to restrain him, their eyes red, worried about upsetting me further.
I kept my eyes closed, unwilling to witness the nauseating, absurd performance. My body was in pain, but my mind was numb and frozen.
But the human heart is a wretched thing.
Even though I knew it was poison wrapped in frosting, even after experiencing the deepest betrayal, seeing him kneeling there, face bruised and tear-streaked...
That pathetic, treacherous emotion began to stir.
A man wanting a child with the person he loves... is that really so wrong?
In that moment, I found an excuse for him.
I softened. I forgave him.
After that, he never mentioned children again. He became meticulous, attentive, and outwardly full of remorse.
I had believed it was guilt. I had believed it was repentance.
Now, sitting in this coffee-scented shop, listening to his mistresss friend casually mention, Siennas pregnant, I finally put the pieces together.
He hadn't given up the idea of a family.
He had just traded me in for a newer, more functional model to build his perfectly complete home.
Are you... are you here to see them?
The friend finally paused, looking curiously at my silent, pale face.
I parted my lips. The saltiness of the sea air seemed to clog my throat.
Was I here to see them?
Under what identity?
Before I could invent a plausible lie, the friend offered her own conclusion.
Oh, I know! You must be coming for their wedding tomorrow night at The Grand Meridian! What a joyous occasion. You can join the fun!
The Grand Meridian.
The very hotel Rhys and I had chosen for our wedding.
3
I was back at The Grand Meridian.
The champagne-rose archway, the long, sweeping red carpet.
Every single detailthe curve of the petals, the fold of the satin ribbonwas exactly as Rhys and I had meticulously planned on the blueprints years ago.
In my previous life, I never set foot here again, terrified of invoking the ghost of what should have been.
Now, this metaphorical graveyard of my suffering was hosting their happiness.
I melted into the crowd of guests and saw many familiar faces. Rhyss relatives, old colleagues, and even...
His parents.
The two seniors were dressed in crisp, celebratory clothes, surrounded by old friends, their faces beaming with unconcealed joy.
I managed to smile looking at them, though it probably looked more like a grimace.
In my last life, after Rhys died, his mother had clung to my hand, sobbing until she was exhausted. Eliza, Rhys is gone, but you are our daughter now. His final wish was for you to live well. We... we will take care of you for him.
I took her words as truth, and as a debt.
When they were sick, I was the one who stayed up to nurse them, signing papers and running errands. I fixed the leaky pipes, replaced the lightbulbs, and managed their seasonal wardrobe changes.
I never missed a holiday gift, and my weekend visits were sacrosanct. I signed the high-risk consent forms for Mr. Fentons heart surgery. When Mrs. Fenton became frail, I paid for her in-home care and visited weekly.
I saw them through to their final days, arranging everything properly as their daughter.
I believed this was penance, a memorial to my lost love.
Now, I heard Mrs. Fenton boast to a relative:
Sienna is a dream. Shes taken such good care of Rhys these past few years, and shes so attentive to us.
We waited so long for them to finally settle down.
Mr. Fenton nodded, his voice full of relief. Its true. If not for her, Rhys would never have recovered. Weve been anticipating this day for too long.
It turned out that all those years I spent living as their dedicated widow, caring for them until the end...
They knew the whole time. They knew their son was living an actual married life in another city with another woman.
All my heartfelt devotion was probably seen as the pathetic, self-absorbed theatrics of a fool.
A sharp, searing bitterness rushed up my throat. I lowered my head. A hot tear splashed onto the carpet, spreading into a dark, small stain.
Then, a distant aunt leaned in, her voice low and tentative.
Speaking of which... what ever happened to Rhyss first wife, Eliza Snow?
The cheerful chatter instantly died.
Mrs. Fentons smile faded. She quickly pulled her lips into a thin line.
Oh, darling, today is a happy day. Lets not spoil it by bringing up irrelevant people and things. Thats all in the past. We need to look forward.
Irrelevant people.
Yesterday, she sent me a message telling me to move on. Today, I was "irrelevant."
The ceremony was about to begin. Guests took their seats.
I stood at the back, watching the scene that mirrored my long-ago dreams. The music I chose, the flowers I selected, every step of the processional I had designed.
On the stage, Rhys stood tall and straight in a crisp tuxedo.
This was the first time since my rebirth that I truly looked at him. He looked young, vivid, and realexactly as he was in my memory.
That familiar, stubborn ache in my chest returned, dull but pervasive.
The barrier between us was not just these few days since my rebirth; it was the four decades of solitude I had endured.
The wedding march began. Sienna, in a white gown, started her walk toward Rhys.
I watched. The answer I had relentlessly pursued, the very question of his love... it suddenly felt meaningless.
He felt meaningless.
Sienna, her smile radiant and certain, stopped before him.
The officiant began the familiar inquiry:
Rhys Fenton, do you take Sienna Lowe to be your wife, to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, holding only to her, until death do you part?
All eyes were on him.
I turned away. I was done watching a perfect picture that was never meant for me.
I took my first step toward the exit.
But from the stage, Rhyss voice cut through the air, clear and devastatingly loud.
I do not.
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