The Wife Who Severed Her Soul

Ever since I was diagnosed with narcolepsyor what the doctors could only call a bizarre, daylight-onset comaI would lose consciousness the moment the sun came up.

We consulted endless specialists, flew to clinics across the country, but every diagnostic test came back frustratingly normal.

Then, on the eve of my son's birthday, I had a dream. A strange woman stood before me, her silhouette stark against a blinding white background.

"You don't actually believe you're sick, do you? That a medical condition is what keeps you asleep all day?"

I stared at her, paralyzed with confusion. She leaned in, a sharp, knowing smile on her lips.

"It's because my soul is fused with yours. We split this body. Twelve hours each. I get the day; you get the night."

"And the best part? Your husband and your son know all about it. In fact, to keep me around, they ran the only spiritual medium who could separate us right out of the city."

My mind went entirely blank. My hands, hanging at my sides, began to shake violently.

She looked thoroughly satisfied with my horror. As the dreamscape began to fade with the rising sun, she whispered mockingly:

"Don't believe me? I'll step back for the next few days. See for yourself."

For three years, this was the first time I had ever opened my eyes during the day. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting golden stripes across our bedroom.

The alarm on the nightstand buzzed.

Elliott, who had been heading toward the master bath, stopped. Seeing me wide awake, his eyes softened, and he slid back into bed, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

"Morning, beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. "Do I get a reward? I did exactly what you asked last nightI didn't touch Naomi once."

The blood in my veins turned to ice.

Ever since the daylight sleeping started, Elliott and I hadn't been intimate. Not once.

At first, he was too consumed by worry to even think about it.

But at some point, the late nights started. Every evening when I woke up at dusk, the house was dark, empty, and silent.

Unaware of my sudden terror, Elliott buried his face in the crook of my neck, breathing me in. His voice was low, teasing, and intimate.

"Melanie, I'm skipping the office today. Let me just drop Toby off at school, and when I get back..."

Before he could finish, our five-year-old, Toby, burst through the door.

"Daddy! You're hogging Mommy again!"

"You broke our promise! You don't have to work during the day, so you get her all the time. We agreed mornings belong to me!"

I stared blankly at the scene playing out in front of me, feeling as if I'd been doused in freezing water.

It all made sense now. Why Elliott, the CEO of his firm, worked so late every night. He wasn't working. He was saving all his daylight hours to spend with Melanie, leaving only the dark, exhausting nights to Naomi.

Elliott pecked Toby on the forehead, then leaned in to kiss my lips.

I turned my head away sharply, a bitter lump rising in my throat.

"Go help Toby brush his teeth first," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. "You know he always gets his collar soaked when he does it himself."

Without waiting for a response, I threw off the duvet, practically bolted out of bed, and locked myself in the bathroom.

By the time I unlocked the door and stepped out, Toby was already dressed in his preschool uniform, sitting at the kitchen island.

Elliott emerged from the kitchen holding a warm skillet.

"Here we go, sweetheart. Sunny-side up eggs and avocado toast, just the way you like them."

I stared at the plate. I had always preferred a simple bowl of warm oatmeal, but Melanie must have craved this instead.

My chest felt heavy, as if a lead weight were crushing my lungs.

Yet, in some twisted form of self-torture, I picked up the fork under Elliott's expectant gaze and took a bite. It tasted like cardboard.

"It's good," I lied.

I needed to see how far they had gone for Melanie over the last three years. I needed to witness the full depth of their betrayal.

Before they left, Toby wrapped his little arms tightly around my waist.

"Mommy, can you bring me two lunchboxes today?"

"I want to save one for dinner. I'll ask the teacher to heat it up for me. I don't want to eat the food the "other" mommy makes."

I stood frozen as Toby clung to me, my fingertips turning numb with cold.

No wonder. Every night, I would wake up and pour my heart into preparing a beautiful dinner, only for Toby to take two bites, drop his fork, and run to his room. I thought he was just a picky eater.

It wasn't that. He had already eaten the dinner prepared by his "real" mother during the day.

Elliott scooped Toby up into his arms, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Toby, we've talked about this."

I snapped my gaze to Elliott, my fingernails biting hard into my palms. A tiny, desperate spark of hope flared in my chest.

"Naomi is still your mother. You need to respect her enough to finish the dinner she makes you."

Seeing Toby pout, Elliott chuckled softly and pinched his cheek.

"Besides, Daddy has found a way to let Mommy Melanie stay with us for much longer."

"Remember that spiritual medium who almost let Naomi find out the truth last year?"

"He knows how to bind her soul so Naomi only wakes up once every seven days. Daddy's assistant is already tracking him down."

A sharp, agonizing pain pierced my heart. The rest of Elliott's words faded into a loud, ringing silence.

I managed to whisper, "I'm going back to sleep," before retreating inside and shutting the door on them.

I sat alone in the quiet, echoing house.

When the tears finally stopped flowing, there was nothing left inside me but an empty hollow.

I pulled out my phone, scrolled to the very bottom of my contacts, and found the number I had saved months ago.

To: Alistair

"I will pay you triple your fee."

"But when you bind my soul, I need you to do one more thing."

...

Later that morning, an emergency cropped up at Elliott's firm. He went in to resolve it, wrapping up his other meetings while he was there.

For the first time in years, he didn't have to "work late" that evening.

But when he and Toby returned at twilight, their warm, affectionate behavior from the morning had vanished completely. They looked at me as if I were a stranger occupying their space.

"Hi, Mom," Toby mumbled, skirting past me to head straight to his room.

And Elliott, facing the wife he hadn't seen all day, offered only a cold, practiced indifference.

"Oh, you're awake."

If this had been the past, I would have run to him, excited to ask about his day and share whatever little things had happened in my quiet hours. Today, I merely nodded.

I turned my back on him and walked into the kitchen.

At dinner, Toby pushed his food around, took two reluctant bites, and dropped his napkin. "Can I go to my room?"

But with Elliott actually at the table tonight, he couldn't let it slide. He cleared his throat, his tone firm.

"Toby, sit back down. You don't disrespect the effort your mother put into making this dinner."

I stared at them, finding the irony almost comical.

Only hours ago, I had lovingly packed leftover roasted chicken and vegetables into two bento boxes and brought them to Toby's preschool. He had devoured every bite with a massive smile on his face.

Yet here we were, with the exact same ingredients, cooked the exact same way, and he refused to even touch it.

It wasn't the food. He just hated that the woman who cooked it was me.

I stood up abruptly, snatched Toby's plate from the table, and walked over to the sink, dumping it with a loud clatter.

"If you don't want to eat, go to your room. Don't ruin everyone else's appetite."

It was the first time I had ever spoken to Toby like that. No matter how difficult or spoiled he had been, I had always met him with infinite patience.

Startled, Toby burst into tears. He cried loudly, casting covert glances at me, clearly expecting me to fold, to rush over and pull him into my lap the way I always did.

But I only frowned. I turned around, went into the master bedroom, and shut the door, letting the wood block out his escalating wails.

It took half an hour for the crying to stop, dying down as Toby cried himself to sleep.

Shortly after, Elliott stepped into the room.

He slid his arms around my waist from behind, pulling a small velvet jewelry box from his pocket and draping a diamond tennis bracelet over my wrist.

My chest tightened.

Earlier today, shortly after Elliott texted that he was heading to the office, his personal assistant had arrived at our house with several luxury boutique couriers in tow.

"Mrs. Ward, Mr. Ward said he's tied up today. Should we leave these apology gifts upstairs as usual?"

Curiosityor perhaps a grim desire for truthled me to follow the assistant up to the 25th-floor penthouse closet.

The first thing I saw on the wall was a massive portrait of Elliott, Toby, and me at Disneyland. Or rather, Melanie in my body, looking radiant.

Inside the walk-in closet were rows of designer handbags, couture dresses, and three custom-built jewelry islands.

When Elliott and I married, his startup was on the verge of bankruptcy.

I remembered the night he proposed on one knee with a cheap silver band, swearing that one day he would buy me enough diamonds to fill an entire vault. But as his business grew, his time dwindled. His promises were deferred, year after year.

And yet, another woman had stepped into my skin and claimed the life he had promised to build for me.

I violently shook my arm, knocking the tennis bracelet from Elliott's hand. It clattered onto the hardwood floor.

I had seen the receipt for this exact bracelet in the boutique bags delivered this morning. It wasn't a gift of love; it was a companion piece bought to meet a minimum spending limit for one of Melanie's designer bags.

Elliott stared at the fallen jewelry, his eyes shifting from confusion to a cold, familiar annoyance. Looking at him, I finally spoke.

"Elliott, I want a divorce."

He froze, the word registering slowly.

"No way. Absolutely not!"

The panic in his eyes was real as he reached out to grab my hand.

I saw my own reflection in his pupils, but I knew with absolute certainty that he wasn't looking at me. He was desperate to keep the body that housed Melanie.

"You love someone else, Elliott. I'm stepping aside so you can be with her. Isn't that what you want?"

Elliott blinked, stunned.

"What?"

Then, a harsh, dismissive laugh escaped him.

"I wondered why you've been acting like this all day. You think I have a mistress?"

I realized then that he had no idea I knew about Melanie. To him, the concept of two souls sharing one body was too bizarre to ever be discovered. If Melanie hadn't revealed herself to me, I would have spent my entire life in the dark.

I didn't bother explaining.

"Believe whatever you want."

My silence only hardened his contempt. He stepped closer, his voice dripping with condescension.

"Naomi, be realistic. Do you really think you can walk away from this?"

"You're twenty-eight, not eighteen. You're a mother who hasn't worked a day in years. Without me, how are you going to afford a life like this?"

"Go to bed. We have Toby's birthday party tomorrow."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked out, heading to Toby's room. I watched his back disappear, feeling nothing but a profound, exhausting emptiness.

When I woke up the next morning, the atmosphere in the house had shifted completely. It was as if they were entirely different people.

The impatience and irritation that usually shadowed Elliott's face when he looked at me were gone, replaced by a soft, attentive warmth.

Toby crawled into bed with me, snuggling close and whispering about how much he hated the "bad mommy" from last night who wouldn't let him eat. He was talking to Melanie, of course, but his words only made my chest ache with a dull, hollow throb.

Because they had both slept in, we had to rush to get dressed and drive over to the private dining club where Toby's birthday lunch was being held.

The moment we stepped into the private room, family members swarmed us.

"Toby looks more and more like Elliott every day!"

"Melanie, sweetheart, thank you so much for the plum wine you had Elliott send over. Your father-in-law and I absolutely loved it."

"She sent me some too! Oh, it was divine!"

As Elliott's mother and aunt chatted, none of the other relatives batted an eye. It was clear as day: Elliott had already introduced Melanie to his entire family under my name, or perhaps they simply knew and accepted her. They had built an entire life around her, while I, the actual wife, was treated like a ghost who had finally decided to show up.

After lunch came the cake. Toby proudly cut the first slice and brought it directly to me.

"For you, Mommy Melanie!"

His eyes were bright with adoration.

I looked down at the perfectly iced slice of cake. In the three years since Melanie had taken over my days, I hadn't attended a single one of Toby's birthday parties. The first year, I woke up in the evening to a smashed plate of half-eaten frosting and squished fruit. After that, they simply stopped saving any for me.

After pressing the paper plate into my hand, Toby tugged on my sleeve, gesturing for me to lean down. He leaned in close and whispered in my ear:

"Mommy Melanie, my birthday wish this year was for the bad mommy to go away forever. I only want you."

I stared at this little boy. When I was in labor with him, the doctors had told Elliott that my life was in severe danger and they might only be able to save one of us. I had begged them to save my baby. I endured forty-eight hours of excruciating labor just to bring him into this world.

A bitter smile touched my lips as I reached out to ruffle his hair one last time.

"Okay," I whispered. "Mommy will make your wish come true."

"If you don't want me, I won't want you either."

Elliott walked over, joining us. He put a hand on Toby's shoulder, then wrapped his other arm around my waist, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

"What secrets are you two whispering about? Share with"

Before he could finish, a sudden, violent wave of nausea surged up my throat. I pushed him away and began to gag uncontrollably.

The smell of his cologne, his touch, his breathit all made my stomach heave.

The room erupted into worried murmurs as relatives gathered around.

Without answering their questions, Elliott scooped me into his arms, ushered Toby out, and drove at breakneck speed to the hospital.

In the exam room, the doctor handed us the results. "Pregnancy: Five weeks." Elliott's hands shook with sheer joy as he read the paper.

"Melanie, what do you want to eat? Tell me, I'll get it right now."

"I'll have my assistant order some top-tier organic supplements. And I'll slice some fruit for youhow about I make those little apple bunnies you like?"

I watched him, his eyes filled with a tenderness I hadn't seen in years. When I was pregnant with Toby, Elliott's company was failing. We were so poor we lived on instant ramen and stale bread. He was never home, always running from meeting to meeting, too exhausted to even ask how I felt. Now, carrying a child in the exact same body, I was receiving the care I had desperately craved back then. But it wasn't for me. It was for Melanie.

I looked away, my heart entirely cold.

Elliott's phone buzzed. It was his assistant.

"Mr. Ward, the spiritual medium, Alistair, has just arrived in the city. Should I bring him to the house now?"

Before Elliott could speak, I cut in, mimicking Melanie's soft, breathy cadence:

"Elliott, let's go home. I don't want to only have twelve hours with you anymore. I want us to be together for good."

When we got back, Alistair was already waiting in the living room, surrounded by his bags of herbs and candles.

Yet, Elliott, who had been so eager to initiate this, suddenly fell silent. His eyes drifted to the cheap, framed wedding photo hanging on the walla photo of me in a simple white dress, taken back when we had nothing.

Alistair didn't rush him, patiently waiting.

After a long pause, Elliott spoke up, his voice tense.

"If we do this... can we change it back later?"

"Of course," Alistair replied smoothly. "But my energy is limited. I can only perform the ritual once a year."

"Then do it," Elliott decided. "If Naomi learns to accept Melanie's presence, we can always switch back to sharing the days later."

Alistair began setting up his brass bowls and lighting the sage.

Toby danced around me excitedly. "Yay! Mommy Melanie is going to put me to sleep tonight!"

Elliott walked over, taking my hand in his. "Melanie, soon we'll have all the time in the world."

I pulled my hand back gently and smiled at him. "Yes. I can't wait."

I was smiling, but for some reason, the moment my hand left his, Elliott's heart seemed to skip a beat. A sudden, cold dread flashed through his eyes.

The ritual began.

I could feel my soul being forcibly peeled away from my body. It was an agonizing, shredding pain, like a thousand tiny knives slicing through my consciousness. I collapsed onto the floor, screaming and writhing.

Alistair hadn't lied to Elliott. If it were a simple binding ritual, it could be undone in a year. But I hadn't paid him to bind me.

I had paid him to sever my soul completely.

Once a soul is fully severed, it can never, ever return to the host body.

A brilliant white light engulfed my vision, and I plunged into absolute darkness.

At that exact moment, Melanie took full possession of the physical body. She opened her eyes, gasping, and immediately threw her arms around a stunned Elliott.

"Elliott, it's me!"

"That idiot Naomi was the one playing tricks the last few days. But she just had the medium perform a full soul severance. She's gone, Elliott! She's never coming back!"