The Wife Who Came Back From the Dead / Chapter 3: The Stranger in My Place
The Wife Who Came Back From the Dead

The Wife Who Came Back From the Dead

Author: Mark Riley


Chapter 3: The Stranger in My Place

Michael led me down the hall. The floorboards creaked underfoot, and the air was thick with the scent of wood polish and maybe Rachel’s floral perfume.

I paused at the familiar sight of my old home, caught in memories. The family photos were different, but the same sunlight slanted through the stained-glass window above the door.

Michael and I had been high school sweethearts. We married young—homecoming dance, vows under the Friday night lights, a promise exchanged under the bleachers. My heart still thudded remembering the ring he slipped onto my finger.

When he proposed, he had the Maple Lane house redone just for me. He even put a porch swing out front because he knew I loved reading there in the summer.

Now, the maple and cherry trees were gone. The yard looked too neat, too empty.

"Rachel’s got asthma. She can’t be around pollen or maple seeds," Michael explained.

So the house had changed for Rachel. Life reshapes itself for new people, I thought, feeling the loss tug at me.

I forced a faint smile. "Of course, her health comes first." The words caught, but I kept my tone gentle.

Michael looked surprised, frowning like he didn’t recognize me anymore.

"Sarah, you’ve changed."

I tucked my hair behind my ear and tried to joke, "Is that a bad thing?" My voice was light, though my heart wasn’t in it.

He actually laughed. "No. It’s good."

"I worried you wouldn’t accept Rachel. But it seems like you can let other people in now."

When we got married, I made him promise I’d be his only wife. We signed our license at City Hall, fingers laced so tightly my knuckles hurt.

He agreed—swore forever. I believed him. I was young.

I never thought ‘forever’ would last just four years. Then I fell, and in everyone’s mind, I was dead.

But I’d come back. And nobody expects a ghost to walk through the door.

So this is what he means by ‘letting others in.’ It stung, but I kept my head up.

I frowned, lips pressed tight.

"Michael."

"It’s not what you think…" My voice shook, stuck between old love and new reality.

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