My husband and his identical twin brother were in an accident out of town.
One dead, one injured. When the news reached us, my sister-in-law was already red-eyed from crying. When I saw my husband walk through the door, alive, the knot of terror in my chest finally loosened.
I started toward him, but he stopped and handed me the urn he was carrying.
"Ava, I'm so sorry. The hospital... they got it wrong. It was Michael who died."
Beside me, my sister-in-laws sobs hitched to a stop.
I pressed my lips together, suppressed a smile, and dutifully clutched the urn to my chest and began to wail.

1
Michael had come home prepared for my questions, my disbelief.
He never expected me to accept his death so easily.
After all, the initial report had said that Matthew, his twin brother, was the one who hadn't made it.
Now, hearing me cry out his name with such heart-wrenching grief, Michael looked visibly unnerved. He made a show of steadying me, and I seized the opportunity, my fingers digging into his arm.
A thick bandage was wrapped around his forearm.
He'd really gone through the trouble. To get rid of the prominent birthmark that so clearly distinguished him from Matthew, he'd carved away his own flesh.
My nails sank into the muscle beneath the bandage. Michael flinched in pain, but when he met my tear-filled eyes, he didn't dare pull away.
He just offered a dry, hollow comfort. "Ava, please, try to be strong. Michael Michael wouldn't want to see you this devastated."
I wiped away a tear. "You're right. I need to pull myself together."
After all, from this day forward, I, Ava, was a widow.
My in-laws passed away years ago, and my husband was "newly deceased."
That meant if I wanted to get rid of the baby in my belly, I didn't need to tell a single soul.

2
People always said the two brothers were impossible to tell apart.
Michael probably thought impersonating his brother would be child's play.
He was wrong.
Even after removing the birthmark, even after mimicking Matthews every mannerism, there were subconscious habits that would always betray him.
Besides, I was his wife. Wed shared a life, a bed. I knew the moment he walked through that door that the man who came back was my husband.
I could recognize him. In this life, and the last.
Unfortunately, in my previous life, I couldnt for the life of me understand why Michael would pretend to be his brother. So Id stubbornly insisted to everyone that he was, in fact, Michael.
He vehemently denied it. His sister-in-law, Amy, called me a shameless homewrecker, accusing me of coveting her man the moment mine was in the ground.
But they both knew the truth. They both knew the one who survived was Michael.
The way people looked at me slowly shifted from pity to disgust.
They thought Id lost my mind, unable to accept my husband's death. Michaels constant denials sent me spiraling into despair.
It wasn't until I discovered I was pregnant that a flicker of hope reignited within me.

3
I thought, if I just had this baby, Michael would have to acknowledge his own child. He couldn't possibly deny who he was then.
And during my pregnancy, Michael did seem to soften. He stopped pushing me away. He even started coming over to take care of me. He still wouldnt admit he was Michael, but I took it as a sign that things were getting better.
I gave birth to a boy.
Michael was ecstatic. For a split second, he forgot his act and blurted out, "You did so well, Ava!"
Exhausted from labor, I finally felt a wave of relief wash over me. Hed finally admitted it. A brother-in-law would never call me by my pet name.
When I woke up again, the baby was gone.
The first thing I saw was Michaels grief-stricken face.
He told me our son had suffered from sudden respiratory distress. The doctors tried, but they couldn't save him.
Once again, he uttered those hollow words.
"Ava, please try to be strong."

4
I left the hospital. And I truly went mad.
Michael moved to the city with Amy.
I became the town crazy lady, the one everyone avoided. My days were spent sitting on a stone by the crossroads, staring into the distance. Whenever someone passed, Id shout, "Michael's back! Michael's back!"
Mischievous children would trail behind me, mimicking my cries in their high-pitched voices. "Michael's dead! Michael's long dead!"
Hearing their laughter, Id reflexively chase after them, screaming, "My baby! Where's my baby!"
They would scatter like birds.
I lived in that hazy nightmare for years.
Until one night, in a fit of madness, I ran out of the house and straight into the path of a passing car. By the time I was found, I was barely breathing. The townspeople had no choice but to call Michael, to tell him to come back and arrange the funeral for his "sister-in-law."
On my deathbed, I saw him one last time.
Maybe it was guilt from seeing the wreck Id become, or maybe he just figured a dying woman was no longer a threat. But at my bedside, Michael confessed everything.
He told me it really was Matthew who had died in the crash. He just couldn't bear to see Amy become a widow at such a young age, so he decided to take his brother's place.
The three of them had grown up together, and both brothers had fallen for Amy. When she chose Matthew, Michael had never gotten over it. The accident, while tragic, had presented him with a twisted opportunity to fix his lifelong regret.
How laughable.
He couldn't stand to see his white moonlight in mourning, so he let me bear the agony of losing a husband?
Then what were all his promises to me when we were dating, when we got married? Were they just him trying to convince himself to let Amy go? Just a way to numb his own pathetic pining?
But the final blow, the one that shattered what was left of my soul, was when he told me my baby hadn't died.
Amy was too frail to have children of her own. So he had taken our son and given him to her to raise.
He even had the audacity to explain, "I just thought it would be better for him to grow up in a complete, healthy family."
Was I supposed to thank them? Thank them for giving the child I bore a "complete home"?
Michael thought I was delirious, that I couldn't hear him.
But in that final surge of life before death, my mind was terrifyingly clear.
Tears of bitter regret slid from the corners of my eyes.
I had wasted my short, miserable life on a man like this.
I didn't even have the strength to lift my hand and slap him. I just lay there, my heart full of hatred, and breathed my last.

5
"Ava, the most important thing right now is to arrange Michael's funeral."
Michael's voice pulled me back from the horrifying memories.
I lifted my gaze to meet his, but his eyes darted away, unable to hold my stare.
After a long moment, I finally spoke, enunciating each word with chilling precision.
"You're right, little brother."
"It's time to let Michael rest in peace."
Since he wanted to be with Amy so desperately, he could spend the rest of his life as Matthew.

6
At the funeral, I was the picture of a heartbroken widow. My cries were so raw they moved everyone present.
They thought I was mourning the dead Michael. In truth, I was mourning the woman I had been in my last life.