After spending a week drowning in grief at home, I forced myself to go out and ended up at the coffee shop we used to frequent. That’s where I bumped into Carmen, an old buddy.
She: “How are you?”
Me: “Well… to be honest, terrible.”
She: “Why? What happened?”
Me: “My wife died a week ago.”
She: “Are you kidding me? I saw her just yesterday!”
Me: “That’s impossible…”
She: “Yes, I even talked to her!”
“But… But I was sure she passed away… How?!” — This is what I thought. So, I decided to dial her number and call. Oh God, I didn’t expect that at all…
…someone answered.
At first, there was silence — just faint breathing on the other end. My heart was pounding so hard I could barely speak.
“Hello? Who is this?” I asked, my voice shaking.
Then… her voice. My wife’s voice. Calm. Soft. Exactly as I remembered.
“Please… don’t try to find me,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, but I had no choice.”
Before I could even process the words, the line went dead.
I sat there frozen in the coffee shop, Carmen staring at me like I’d just seen a ghost.
That was the moment I realized — maybe I hadn’t lost her to death… but to something far more mysterious.
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