My Dead Husband Returned With Another Woman

Elena POV

The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating, filling the space where the truth had finally landed.

Mia clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.

Tears spilled over her cheeks.

"Oh my God," she choked out, the words wet and ragged. "Oh my God, I didn't know."

She stared down at the locket in her palm as if the metal were searing her skin.

"Why did you lie?" she asked, her voice cracking under the strain. "Why did you say you were family? Why are you helping us?"

I took a slow step toward her.

She flinched, shrinking back as if she expected me to strike her.

I didn't blame her.

In our world, a scorned wife would have killed the mistress by now.

But I wasn't just a wife anymore.

I was a ghost, haunting a life that no longer belonged to me.

"Don't cry," I said softly, reaching out to brush a stray tear from her cheek. "It's bad for the baby."

Mia grabbed my hand, squeezing it with desperate strength.

"I stole him," she sobbed, her body shaking. "I stole your husband. I'm so sorry. I swear, I didn't know. I'll tell him. I'll tell him tomorrow. I'll give him back."

I pulled my hand away gently.

My chest ached—a dull, constant throb that never really faded.

"You can't give back what is already gone, Mia."

She shook her head frantically.

"No, he's right here. He's down the hall. We can fix this."

I turned away, walking to the window to look out at the shadowed garden.

"The man down the hall is Arthur," I said, my voice hollow. "He likes mild coffee. He smiles at strangers. He is gentle and kind."

I turned back to face her.

"My husband was Dante Moretti. He drank espresso black as tar. He broke bones without blinking. He burned the world for me."

I locked eyes with her, letting the truth hang in the air.

"My husband died three years ago in an explosion. The man you saved is someone else."

"But he has the same body," she argued weakly.

"A body is just a shell," I said. "He doesn't know me, Mia. He looks at me and sees a stranger. If I force him to remember... if I force the violence back into his head... it will destroy the peace he has found with you."

"But you love him," she whispered.

"Yes," I said, the word barely a breath. "That is why I am letting him go."