Seven days.
That was how long it had been since we lowered the empty casket into the ground.
I stood before the granite headstone, the chill of the overcast sky seeping through my black dress. My fingers crushed the stems of the white roses. Thorns bit into my skin, but the sting felt distant.
"Doris, we need to go." Alexander touched my elbow gently.
"It's been a week, Alex," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Why does it still feel like the plane went down yesterday?"
"Because you loved him," he said softly. "But standing out here in the cold won't bring him back."
I dropped the roses onto the freshly turned soil. Sorensen Wiles. The golden boy of the Wiles family. The heir everyone envied. And for five years, my perfect husband.
"You should be at the office," I told Alexander, refusing to meet his gaze. "You've missed three board meetings this week alone."
"The company will survive," he replied, his tone steady.
"You're his best friend, not my babysitter. We graduated college together, Alex. You don't owe me this."
"I'm not doing it out of obligation." Alexander stepped in front of me, forcing me to look at him. Dark circles bruised the skin under his eyes. He had canceled every flight, every negotiation, just to handle the funeral arrangements I was too broken to manage.
The raw concern in his expression made my chest ache. I felt suffocated by his kindness. I had nothing left to give anyone, let alone the man who had abandoned his own life to keep me afloat.
"I'm fine," I lied, swaying on my feet.
The cemetery spun. Black spots danced across my vision.
Alexander caught my waist before my knees hit the grass. "You're burning up. I'm taking you to the hospital."
"No, I just need to sit down—"
"I'm not asking, Doris."
The fluorescent lights of the emergency clinic buzzed overhead, a harsh contrast to the gray morning outside.
"Her immune system is completely compromised," Dr. Miller told Alexander, bypassing me entirely. "Extreme grief and physical exhaustion have taken a massive toll."
"What does she need?" Alexander asked.
"Sleep. Real food. I'll prescribe some vitamins, but if she doesn't keep water down by tonight, bring her back for IV fluids."
I stared at the blank wall of the examination room. "I can hear you both."
Alexander sighed, turning to me. "Then listen to him. Sorensen is gone. You're still here."
"I'll try," I muttered, sliding off the exam table. My legs felt like lead.
"Wait right here," Alexander instructed, grabbing his car keys. "I'm going to pull the car around to the front entrance. Do not move."
He walked out, leaving me alone in the sterile room. A terrible thirst clawed at my throat. I didn't want to wait. I just wanted a cup of water from the fountain in the hall.
I pushed the door open and wandered down the corridor.
Passing the maternity ward, I froze.
A tall man stood near the elevator bank. He had broad shoulders clad in a tailored wool coat. The exact tilt of his head. The familiar line of his jaw.
My heart violently slammed against my ribs.
He turned his face to the side, and the air completely vanished from my lungs.
It was Sorensen.
He was gently rubbing the lower back of a heavily pregnant blonde woman. She leaned into his chest, laughing at something he said.
"Sorensen?" The name tore from my throat before I could stop it.
I sprinted forward. My hands reached out, grabbing his forearm. The thick fabric of his coat felt real. The solid muscle beneath it felt real.
"You're alive." The words tumbled out of my mouth in a frantic rush. "Oh my god, you're alive. How are you here?"
He looked down at my fingers gripping his sleeve. A muscle feathered in his jaw.
"Excuse me?" he asked.
The voice sent a chill straight down my spine. It was flat. Empty.
"It's me," I pleaded, stepping into his line of sight. "Doris. Your wife."
The blonde woman swatted my hand away with surprising force. "Back off, crazy lady. Don't touch my husband."
"Husband?" I stared at her swelling belly, then back at the man I had buried exactly seven days ago. "Stop playing around. Please. The plane crash—"
"I don't know who you are," the man interrupted, his tone laced with heavy annoyance. "But you need to step back."
Before I could scream, familiar hands clamped onto my shoulders. Alexander yanked me backward.
"I am so sorry," Alexander told the couple, his grip tightening on me to prevent me from lunging again. "My friend recently lost someone. You bear a striking resemblance to her late husband."
"Keep her locked up, then," the blonde woman scoffed, rubbing her stomach protectively.
The man didn't say another word. He didn't even cast a second glance my way. He simply placed a hand on the woman's waist and guided her into the open elevator.
The metal doors slid shut.
"Let me go!" I fought against Alexander, hitting his chest. "That was him, Alex! You saw him!"
"Doris, stop!" Alexander spun me around, gripping my arms. "Sorensen died in a plane crash. We identified the belongings. We held the funeral."
"I know what I saw!" I yelled, tears finally spilling over my eyelashes.
"You saw a stranger," he insisted, his voice strained. "Doppelgangers exist. Your mind is playing tricks on you because you haven't slept in a week."
I slumped against the wall, burying my face in my hands.
Was I losing my mind? The coldness in that man's eyes had been entirely foreign. Sorensen had never looked at me like that.
"Stay right here on this bench," Alexander commanded, pointing a stern finger at me. "I'll go get your discharge papers from the front desk. I mean it, Doris. Do not move."
I nodded, too drained to fight him anymore.
He jogged down the hall. I stared at the linoleum floor, trying to regulate my breathing.
"Mrs. Wiles?"
A nurse walked toward me, holding a printed sheet of paper. "You left your bloodwork results in the exam room."
I took the paper, murmuring a quick thanks.
I needed to find a trash can for the useless printout. I dragged my feet down the adjacent hallway, turning the corner into the VIP maternity wing.
The corridor was dead silent.
Room 402 had its door cracked open just an inch.
A familiar, high-pitched giggle drifted out into the quiet space.
"Sorensen, you're terrible."
The name paralyzed me.
My blood turned to ice. I crept closer, pressing my shoulder flat against the wall. Through the narrow gap in the doorway, I peered inside.
The blonde woman from the elevator sat on the edge of the hospital bed. The man—my husband—knelt on the floor in front of her, carefully unlacing her shoes.
"You went to such extremes," the woman teased, running her manicured fingers through his dark hair. "Faking a plane crash just to be with me for the birth."
My stomach violently heaved.
"Won't Doris be mad if she finds out?" she asked, a cruel smile playing on her lips.
I squeezed my eyes shut. I prayed for a stranger's voice to answer. I prayed for Alexander to be right.
"Don't overthink it."
The deep, resonant baritone belonged to the man who had whispered vows into my ear five years ago. There was no coldness now. It was the exact, tender tone he used to reserve only for me.
"Our child is what matters most," Sorensen continued, pressing a soft kiss to her swollen stomach. "I handled the Wiles family. The rest is just noise."
Noise.
My grief. My tears. The empty casket. It was all just noise to him.
My fingers went completely slack.
The medical report slipped from my hand. It fluttered through the air, hitting the hallway floor with a sharp slap.
Inside the room, Sorensen's head snapped up. His dark eyes locked directly onto the crack in the door.
