As newlyweds, we met another young couple and became close friends. Suddenly, they stopped taking our calls. My husband said, “Let it go, honey.”
Three years later, I saw the wife at the bank. I confronted her. She became pale and said, “We saw on the news that your—”
She stopped mid-sentence, her lips trembling. I could see the shock in her eyes, as if she had just seen a ghost. My heart pounded. What had they seen? What did they believe about us?
“My what?” I pressed, my voice barely above a whisper. The air between us felt heavy with unsaid words.
She glanced around, as if searching for an escape. The teller called her name, but she ignored it. Instead, she took a deep breath and looked me straight in the eyes. “We saw on the news that your husband had died.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine. “What? That’s ridiculous. My husband is very much alive.”
She took a step back, shaking her head. “We saw his name, his picture. The police report said he was found in his car, an apparent accident. We were devastated. We tried calling at first, but your number was disconnected. We assumed the worst.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “That’s impossible. He never had an accident. He’s at work right now.”
Her voice wavered. “We even attended the funeral. Or at least, we thought we did. The casket was closed.”
A strange mix of emotions surged through me—anger, confusion, fear. How could this happen? Who was buried in that grave?
I fumbled for my phone and dialed my husband. He picked up after two rings. “Hey, love. Everything okay?”
The moment I heard his voice, relief flooded me, but it was quickly replaced by dread. “I need you to come to the bank. Now.”
He hesitated. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Please, just come. I can’t explain over the phone.”
I hung up and turned back to my friend—if I could still call her that. “Show me the news article.”
She hesitated, then pulled out her phone and scrolled through old bookmarks. She found it and turned the screen toward me.
There it was: a headline from three years ago. Local Man Found Dead in Car Accident. Below it, a grainy photo of a man who looked exactly like my husband.
My stomach lurched. My hands trembled as I reached for the phone. The resemblance was uncanny. But it wasn’t just the picture—the name was his. The details matched. But my husband was alive. Standing in our kitchen this morning. Talking to me minutes ago.
The air around me seemed to thicken. “This has to be a mistake.”
She bit her lip. “That’s why we pulled away. We couldn’t bear the pain. We thought you were grieving. Then life got in the way, and reaching out after so much time felt… wrong.”
A familiar voice called my name. I turned to see my husband walking toward us, his brows furrowed in confusion. When he reached us, my friend paled even more, as if she had seen a ghost.
“What’s going on?” he asked, looking between us.
I handed him the phone. His expression shifted from confusion to horror. “What the—?”
“That’s you,” I whispered. “But it’s not you.”
He shook his head. “I’ve never seen this before. This must be some kind of mistake.”
“Who was buried?” I asked, my voice barely audible.
The question hung in the air. The logical part of my brain told me it was just a bizarre coincidence, a man who happened to look like my husband and shared his name. But my gut told me something was terribly wrong.
“We need to find out,” I said. “We need to see the grave.”
That evening, we drove to the cemetery. My friend had given me the location of the grave, and with hesitant steps, we approached the headstone. The name was there. My husband’s name. The date of birth matched his exactly.
I turned to him. “Do you have a twin? Someone you never knew about?”
He shook his head. “No. At least, I don’t think so.”
Something about the grave felt off. The soil looked disturbed, as if it had been recently tampered with.
A sudden thought struck me. “What if… what if this wasn’t an accident? What if someone wanted you dead, and when they couldn’t get to you, they found someone else?”
His jaw tightened. “Then we need to find out who.”
A chill ran through me. The past three years had been peaceful, but what if they were never meant to be? What if the real danger was still out there, waiting for us to uncover the truth?
Edward Wade is a talented writer known for his unique blend of humor and storytelling. With a passion for making people laugh, he specializes in creating captivating stories and witty jokes. As a contributor to various platforms, Edward has gained recognition for his ability to craft lighthearted, yet thought-provoking content that resonates with readers of all ages. His witty style and sharp sense of humor have earned him a loyal following, making him a go-to writer for those in search of a good laugh and engaging narratives. Whether it’s a hilarious short story or a clever joke, Edward’s writing never fails to entertain.