I Mourned My Wife for 3 Years After a Tragic Incident—Yesterday, I Saw Her Alive Beside My Worst Enemy

to my face. Not to the wrapped box in my hand. To the diaper bag slung over my shoulder, where Lily’s tiny knitted yellow duck poked out of the side pocket. Sarah’s fingers lifted toward it, barely, then stopped.

“Sarah,” I breathed. “Is that you?”

Her lips parted. She looked at the duck again instead of answering.

“Please,” she whispered. “Not here.”

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