After He Faked His Death, I Chose to LiveChapter 1
Six years after Anthony Henson died in a car accident because of me, I was still unmarried at thirty.
My elders were anxious. My friends urged me to move on. Even in my dreams, he begged me to keep going.
So I agreed to a blind date. On Memorial Day, I went to say goodbye to him one last time.
But the moment I stepped out of the cemetery, a post popped up on my feed.
Sixth anniversary! My husband just bought me another luxury condo!
I stared at the photo, trembling from head to toe, my scalp prickling with ice.
In the picture, the man I had buried with my own hands was pressing his cheek tenderly against the top of another woman's head.
I followed the address and knocked on the door. The instant our eyes met, I froze where I stood.
The woman was Victoria Mason. The same secretary Anthony Henson had fired six years ago for having an affair with him.
——
Victoria's face flickered with panic.
"Nora Whitfield..."
She tried to slam the door shut, but I braced my hand against it.
Just then, voices drifted from the elevator lobby. Anthony's friends, talking among themselves.
"Anthony's been married six whole years, and that girl is still drowning in grief over his death. She's thirty now and hasn't married anyone."
"I heard she finally agreed to a blind date a while back. Guess she's ready to let go."
"I'm just saying, what Anthony pulled was brutal. Back then, the only reason he sped onto that overpass was because Victoria sent him an explicit photo and he lost his mind. But he let Nora believe he'd been rushing to celebrate her birthday."
"She tried to kill herself more than once because of the guilt."
"Well, at least she agreed to the blind date. She'll probably be married soon enough."
"Keep it down. Don't let Anthony hear..."
They rounded the corner and met my eyes. Every voice died at once.
John Dickerson, Anthony's oldest friend, couldn't hold my gaze.
"Nora, what are you doing here..."
From inside the apartment came a voice I knew better than my own heartbeat.
"Babe, are John and the guys here yet?"
That familiar voice punched through me. My breath seized. My heart nearly stopped.
I spun around. Anthony Henson stood there, holding a bouquet of neatly trimmed flowers, whole and alive and untouched by death.
When he saw me, his body went rigid. Something shattered behind his eyes.