She Returned as His Dead Wife to Destroy Them All

On the way to the cemetery with my husband to visit his late wife's grave, I scrolled past a post on my phone.

"What's a secret you'd never dare tell anyone?"

One reply had thousands of likes.

"My best friend and I grew up together. She came from money—brilliant, dazzling, the kind of girl I could only look up to."

"Then her family fell apart. Her parents divorced. She went from golden girl to working odd jobs just to survive, while I got to study abroad. The gap between us kept growing, and eventually, I betrayed her. I seduced her boyfriend."

"She lost it. Ran out into the street. A car hit her, and she died on the spot."

"That was seven years ago. If I could go back, I'd make the same choice."

"After all, that boyfriend is my husband now. We're happy together. Every holiday, we visit her grave and wish her a better life next time around."

I finished reading and quietly closed my phone.

When I looked up, we had arrived at the cemetery.

My gaze drifted to the couple standing before another headstone nearby, and I froze. For a long moment, I couldn't move.

My husband's low voice came from beside me. "Friends of yours?"

I was about to shake my head.

……

But Arthur Stephens had already stepped out of the car and walked over to greet them.

"Mr. Gilbert. What a coincidence."

Jackson Gilbert startled and turned around.

Seven years had changed him. The boyishness was gone, replaced by sharper angles and a composed gravity that hadn't been there before.

When he saw Arthur, he smiled and extended his hand.

"Mr. Stephens. I didn't expect to run into you here."

"Are you also here to visit a loved one?"

My husband gave a slight nod. "My late wife."

The air went still for a beat.

Arthur reached for my hand and drew me forward. "Allow me to introduce my wife—Sophia Simmons."

Two pairs of eyes turned toward me.

Jackson's gaze landed on my face. He stiffened, a faint crease forming between his brows.

Millicent Winfield let out a soft gasp. "Wow, Mr. Stephens, your wife is gorgeous."

"Mrs. Stephens, it's so lovely to meet you."

She smiled and extended her hand.

The moment I saw her face, my breath caught in my chest.

I thought of the post I'd just read in the car.

That reply with thousands of likes.

Millicent had written it.

She believed I was dead. Killed in that accident.

She hadn't even bothered to change her profile picture.

She could post her deepest thoughts on social media without a care in the world, even if those thoughts were filthy.

I didn't take her hand.

"My apologies."

Her smile stiffened. She pulled her hand back, awkward and deflated.

My gaze drifted to the headstone beside them.

"Lucille Harding?"

"Who was she to you?"

"Someone from our past." Jackson cut me off. "A close friend of mine and Millicent's. She just had bad luck. Passed away young."

"That's right." Millicent nodded along eagerly.

"She was my best friend. It's been seven years since she died, and my husband and I come to visit her every holiday."

"Seven whole years. She's probably been reborn by now. Maybe she's a sweet little girl somewhere, running around without a care in the world?"

Millicent said it lightly, as if it were a joke.

Nobody laughed.

The silence turned uncomfortable.

Several seconds passed before I let a slow smile cross my face.

"What a beautiful friendship. I envy it."

Arthur glanced at me from the corner of his eye.

"Sophia, why don't you stay and chat with Mr. Gilbert and his wife? I'll head over first."

"Of course." I nodded.

Every year, it was the same. Arthur came here to pay his respects to his late wife—the one who still held his heart.