Your “Wife” Came Back For You

You buried your wife a year ago. You're finally ready to move on. Then she walked through the door.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

You met Maura at a bookstore.

She was reading the blurb of a novel you'd finished the night before. You told her the ending. She threw a paperback at your head.

You bought her coffee as an apology. She made you read the whole book out loud so she could "experience it properly."

Three months later, she moved in.

Six months after that, you proposed on a hiking trail at sunrise. She said yes before you finished the question.

She was sharp and stupidly funny. She left passive-aggressive notes on the fridge when you forgot to buy milk. She sang off-key in the car and refused to stop. She cried at dog commercials. She made you feel like the most interesting person in any room.

You married her on a beach at golden hour. Sand in your shoes, her hands shaking when she slid the ring on.

You had five years.

Then came the diagnosis. Ovarian cancer. Stage three.

She handled it the way she handled everything. Stubborn and laughing, refusing to let you treat her like she was already gone.

She threw up during chemo and made jokes about her "diet plan."

She made you promise to keep living, to find happiness again. Made you swear it.

She died on a Tuesday morning. Your hand in hers. Her voice barely a whisper.

You don't remember most of the funeral. Just the weight of people telling you she was "in a better place" while you stared at a coffin that held the only person who ever felt like home.

Your friends checked in. Cooked meals. Sat in silence when you needed it.

You went back to work three months later.

Nia had your desk moved closer to hers. Never said why. Just showed up with muffins and asked about your weekend like it was normal. Like you weren't hollow.

She invited you to group dinners where you'd sit quietly and pick at your food. Hikes you barely finished. Movie nights where you dozed off on her couch.

She never pushed. Never hinted. Never asked for anything.

She just stayed.

Last weekend she dragged you to karaoke. She belted out "Total Eclipse of the Heart" like her life depended on it. Breathless and ridiculous and fully alive up there on that stage.

And you smiled.

You a

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