She Burned Her Own Soulmate

My wife told me she was drowning in debt. She begged me to fake my own death so her creditors would back off.

But on the day of my funeral, peering through a hairline fracture in the wood of my casket, I saw something that turned my blood to ice.

My wifes great lost lovethe man shed spent our entire marriage pining forwas standing at the altar. And he was wearing my face.

The priests voice droned through the chapel, reciting the final rites for a man named Roman. My "fake" funeral had just become Romans very real ticket to a new life.

My body went rigid. A cold, paralyzing dread seeped into my marrow. I realized then, with a clarity that shattered my heart, that Becca didn't just want me gone. She wanted me dead.

I tried to thrash, to scream, but the lid had been hammered shut with terrifying finality. My mouth was sealed tight with heavy-duty duct tape.

Through the tiny gap in the wood, I saw the man with my face lean down. His eyes, usually so full of practiced sorrow, were glittering with a jagged, triumphant malice.

Glenn, he whispered, his voice muffled by the mahogany. Becca isnt broke. She never was. She just needed a body to put in the ground so I could take your life.

I died in that box, clawing at the lid until my fingernails tore away, gasping for air that never came. My last moments were spent leaving bloody, desperate gouges in the wood that no one would ever see.

After I was gone, he stepped into my shoes. He took my wealth, my reputation, my everything, while I was dumped in a nameless grave in the middle of nowhere.

Then, I opened my eyes.

I was back. It was the night before the funeral.

What are you doing just standing there? Get in the damn casket.

Beccas voice, sharp and impatient, cut through the silence of the room.

I blinked, my vision blurring as I looked around. The black drapes, the smell of lilies cloying and heavy, the polished mahogany box resting on its trestles. It hit me like a physical blow.

I was back.

In my past life, Becca told me her investments had tanked. Id liquidated every asset I had, emptied my 401(k), and sold my soul to help her, but she claimed it wasn't enough. She convinced me to sign a debt-assumption agreement and then staged this "exit strategy."

Shed told me it was the only way to save us. In reality, it was the only way to save Romanthe man shed never stopped loving, the man she blamed me for "ruining."

I forced myself to breathe. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and managed a single, hollow word.

Fine.

A flicker of relief crossed Beccas face, though her eyes remained cold, professional.

Just get used to the space, she said, her tone clipped. I made some soup. Ill go get a bowl for you before we settle in for the night.

She turned and walked toward the kitchen.

I didn't lie down like a lamb to the slaughter this time. The moment she was gone, I sat up, covering my nose and mouth with my sleeve.

In my first life, I thought the soup had been drugged. But as I sat there, I realized the scent was coming from inside the box. The silk lining was damp, saturated with high-grade ether.

If I had stayed in there for even two minutes, I would have drifted off into that same dark sleep, never to wake up again.

It was a surgical, heartless plan.

I climbed out of the casket, my movements silent and frantic. I followed her toward the kitchen, staying in the shadows. I wanted to see her face. I wanted to see the mask slip.

I reached the door just as a sound drifted outa low, rhythmic moan that made my skin crawl.

I peered through the crack in the door. My wife wasn't making soup. She was wrapped in the arms of the man who was supposed to be in hiding.

Becca, babe, Roman whispered, his hands roaming over her with a possessive heat. Is that loser in the box yet?

Roman, stop, she giggled, a sound I hadn't heard from her in years. He does whatever I tell him. Hes already under.

Roman let out a dark, arrogant laugh.

Perfect. He actually thinks youre in debt. He has no idea this is all just payback for what he did to me.

Becca sighed, leaning her head against his chest. Dont be mad about the past, Roman. When he caught us back then he had so much power, so much money. I had to tell him you forced yourself on me. I didn't have a choice.

And I spent years in a cell because of that lie, Roman growled, though his tone was softening.

Which is why Im giving you his life now, she whispered. The ether will keep him out. Go in there, tie him up, and nail it shut. Tomorrow, he dies, and everything he owns becomes yours.

As Roman lifted his head, the moonlight hit his face. It was uncanny. The same jawline, the same browhe had spent the last year undergoing surgeries to become my double.

Fury, hot and blinding, surged through me.

For three years, I had lived in a sexless, miserable marriage because she claimed she was "traumatized" by the "assault" Id rescued her from. I had endured her verbal abuse, her spending rages, and the slow dismantling of my company, all because I felt guilty for her pain.

I had sacrificed my familys legacy, sold my grandfathers estate, all to save a woman who was currently planning my murder with her lover.

I watched Roman head toward the funeral parlor. I followed him, my shadow merging with the dark.

He wanted a disappearing act? Fine. Id make sure Romans funeral was the real deal.

Roman walked up to the casket. He didn't open it immediately. Instead, he stood over it, his face twisted in a sneer of pure hatred.

Glenn, you bastard, he spat. Remember when I begged you for mercy at the sentencing? You looked me in the eye and told the judge to give me the maximum. You stole years of my life.

He laughed, a jagged, ugly sound.

Since youre about to be worm-food, Ill tell you a secret. That one time Becca let you touch her three years ago? That was my idea. I wanted to see if you could even manage it.

My teeth ground together so hard I thought they might shatter.

You actually got her pregnant, didn't you? A real little miracle. Do you want to know what happened to that baby, Glenn? Becca didn't miscarry. She came to see me on my work release, and we decided we didn't want anything of yours living in this world. We got rid of it together.

I felt the world tilt. The air left my lungs. The child I had mourned for yearsthe loss I had blamed myself forhad been murdered by the two people I trusted most.

But hey, youll never hear this. Youre already gone.

Roman smirked and threw back the lid of the casket.

His eyes went wide. His breath hitched.

What the where is he?

The room was silent.

He spun around, his pulse visible in his neck. He looked right at the corner where I was standing.

Glenn? he stammered, his voice climbing an octave. How are you why aren't you in the box?

The rage that had been simmering in my chest finally erupted. I didn't give him a chance to move. I lunged, grabbing a handful of his hair and slamming his face into the edge of the mahogany casket.

There was a sickening crunch as his nose shattered. Blood sprayed across the white silk lining.

Before he could scream, I shoved a wad of duct tape over his mouth and tackled him into the box. I used the zip ties Id grabbed from the garage to bind his hands and feet.

He thrashed like a landed fish, muffled grunts of terror vibrating through the wood.

The lid was heavy, and he was fighting with the strength of a desperate man. Just as I was struggling to hold it down, a voice cut through the room.

Glenn?!

I froze. Becca was standing in the doorway, a heavy framing hammer in her hand, her face a mask of icy resolve.

Romans eyes pleaded with her. He thought his savior had arrived.

I didn't look at him. I turned toward her, mimicking Romans arrogant posture, and let out a low, shaky laugh.

Becca, its me. Its Roman.

She paused, squinting through the dim light. I had the same build, the same face, and Romans clothes. She stepped closer, her expression softening into something disturbingly tender.

Roman? God, the resemblance is so perfect I almost scared myself.

Inside the box, the real Roman went still, a horrific realization dawning in his eyes. He began to thrash even harder, the casket groaning under the strain.

Beccas face hardened. She walked over and swung the hammer, slamming it down on the lid right above where his head would be.

Shut up! she screamed at the box.

The sound of wood splintering and a muffled shriek echoed through the room. Roman curled into a ball inside, his jaw likely broken by the force of the blow.

Becca looked at me, her eyes shining with a chilling devotion. Glenn, I tried to make this easy for you with the ether. Why do you have to make me hurt you?

I didn't say a word. I just watched her.

She thought I was Roman. She thought the man she was about to bury alive was her "unwanted" husband.

She pulled a roll of industrial tape from her pocket and smoothed it over the seams of the lid. Then, she looked at me and smiled.

Help me with the nails, honey. Lets put Glenn to rest for good.

I watched her, stroke after stroke, drive the nails into the wood, sealing her soulmate into his own grave.

I couldn't wait to see her face when she realized who she had actually killed.

The service was held at the small chapel next to the crematorium.

By the time Becca and I arrived, the "mourners" were already thin on the ground. There was no real grief here. The few relatives Roman had were clearly in on the scam. They nodded at meat the man they thought was Romanwith knowing grins.

After today, you two can finally be a real couple, one of them whispered, clapping me on the shoulder. That bastard Glenn held you back for way too long.

Becca squeezed my hand, her palm sweaty. Roman, were almost there. Aren't you happy?

I remained silent for a long moment before asking, Becca, did it have to end like this? If youd just asked for a divorce, Im sure he would have given it to you.

She frowned, her grip tightening. Dont start with that, Roman. Are you still guilty about the trial? I stayed with him to bleed him dry for you. Everything he had is ours now. Its your compensation.

She reached into her designer bag and pulled out a gold card, sliding it into my hand.

Here. This is what Ive been siphoning from his accounts over the last three years. Happy now?

I took the card, my fingers trembling. I started to laugh, a single tear escaping and rolling down my cheek.

I was so happy, Becca. Happy to realize what a fool Id been.

I had loved her for ten years. I had thought her spending was a coping mechanism for her "trauma." I had sold my familys history, ignored my grandfathers dying wish to keep our land, all to fund her secret life with another man.

I looked at the casket where Roman lay, likely suffocating in the dark.

Becca, I said, my voice thick with a dark irony. I think Ive changed my mind. Lets not bother with a burial. Lets just send him straight to the furnace.

The casket vibrated violently. The people around us looked away, pretending not to notice.

Burnings better, a loud, gravelly voice echoed from behind us. A predator like him deserves to turn to ash.

I turned. My father-in-law, Arthur, was walking toward us.

He stood by the casket, his face twisted in a sneer. This animal hurt my daughter. Dying is too good for him.

He was cursing Romans name, but his eyes were on me, filled with a conspiratorial wink. He thought he was cursing me.

I had treated this man like my own father. I had paid his medical bills, taken him on vacations, and respected him. Why did he hate me so much?

Arthur reached out and nudged the casket with his foot. His expression shifted. He frowned, pushing it again.

Wait. Somethings wrong. This box it feels too light.

The casket began to thrash again, a desperate, rhythmic banging against the wood.

Arthur looked at me, then back at the box.

Is it possible did we get the wrong guy in there?

The room went still. Becca hissed under her breath, Dad, stop it! I locked him in myself last night. You know Roman is my saviorif I thought for a second Id put him in danger, Id kill myself!

But Arthurs suspicion didn't fade. I built this box myself, Becca. I had Glenn lie in it weeks ago to 'check the fit' as a joke. This weight isn't right.

He reached for the lid, his eyes hard.

Dad! If you open that now, youll ruin everything! Becca grabbed his arm. Once the furnace starts, Glenns life belongs to us. Roman can live under his name, and no one will ever know. Do you want to risk a scene now with all these people outside?

I stepped in, my voice calm. Beccas right. This is the transition period. We cant afford any mistakes.

Arthur looked around at the curious glances from the staff. Fine. But lets get it to the fire. Now.

Romans muffled screams were becoming more frantic. Becca rushed over to the small air-slit shed left and poured a large bottle of ether directly inside.

The thrashing slowed, then stopped.

Becca whispered to the wood, her voice devoid of emotion. Dont hate me, Glenn. Love is about who was there first. You have no idea what Roman sacrificed for me when we were kids. You sent him to prison. This is just the world correcting itself.

I listened to her, my mind spinning.

Roman sacrificed for her when they were kids?

I had investigated Roman years ago. He grew up in Europe. Becca had never left the States as a child.

But I remembered something else. When I was a boy, staying with my grandfather in the mountains, my father and I had rescued a father and daughter who were lost in a storm. During the rescue, I had fallen down a ravine and shattered my leg. My father he had drowned trying to get us across the creek.

I looked at Becca. Then at Arthur.

Arthur was the one who told me Becca had been assaulted in that hotel room. He was the one who pushed for the police report. He knew Roman. He knew their history.

Why would he do this?

As the funeral staff began to slide the casket toward the furnace, they pulled the body out to prepare it for the tray.

Arthurs brow furrowed deeper. He stepped forward, putting a hand on the shroud, weighing the body.

Becca, he whispered, his voice trembling. The weight its all wrong. Its too light.

Dad, shut up! Becca snapped.

I need to see his face, Arthur insisted, his hand reaching for the cloth.

Becca blocked him, her face pale. Are you crazy? Someone will see!

The staff were starting to look over, confused. Arthurs face was a mask of agonizing indecision. He didn't want to get caught, but his gut was screaming at him.

In the end, he let his greed win. He stood back and watched as the body was pushed into the maw of the crematorium.

The fire roared to life with a deafening whoosh.

Through the observation window, we watched the flames lick the shroud.

Becca leaned against me, her voice trembling with excitement. Its over, Roman. Hes finally paying what he owes us.

But Arthur was pressed against the glass, his eyes wide.

Suddenly, a flash of silver caught the light inside the furnace.

Arthurs breath hitched.

The bracelet! he screamed, pointing a shaking finger at the flames. Becca, thats the bracelet you gave Roman!

Becca turned white. No, Dad, youre seeing things.

But as the heat intensified, the flesh melted away. The silver chain fell to the floor of the kiln. The initials engraved on the insideB.M.were clearly visible for a split second before the heat warped them.

Becca spun around to look at me, her eyes filled with a dawning, horrific realization.