Chapter 18 - The Husband I Buried

Now

By the time the train neared Barkley Station, my nerves were splintering. I was already standing, ready to step off as soon as I saw him. My palms were slick against the pole, fingers locked tight around it, knuckles white. My heart thudded so hard I could feel it in my throat, each beat a countdown I couldn’t stop.

There were only a few stops left on the line before it terminated.

If he – Luis, or his exact lookalike – had stepped off earlier, I might have lost him for good.

The train began to slow, the brakes screeching as it pulled into the station. The lights overhead flickered, throwing fractured reflections onto the window glass. I leaned forward, searching the platform, my chest aching with the weight of it all.

With each passing stop, I’d grown more panicked, more certain I’d already missed him, that I’d never see him again. It was like I’d been given this amazing second chance, and I didn’t want to blow it.

Maybe I’d imagined him. Maybe grief had finally bled into delusion.

The doors hissed open. Passengers shuffled toward the exits, murmuring softly. I scanned every face, every flash of a dark jacket or familiar stride.

It was beginning to feel futile.

Until the last few passengers departed. Amongst them I noticed a flash of dark hair. That walk.

My pulse spiked. It still looked like him.

Before I could second-guess myself, I was on my feet, squeezing past a woman with a stroller and lunging out the doors just as they began to close, apologizing. I slipped through, breathless, and landed hard on the platform.

He was ahead of me. Already moving fast. Purposefully.

I followed, keeping a careful distance. My plan to confront him, the speech I’d been rehearsing in my head on the train, evaporated. A sharper, colder instinct took over. I would follow him. Watch. See where he was going.

He moved like someone who didn’t want to be followed, throwing quick glances over his shoulder, his shoulders tight, stride steady but tense. The kind of walk that said he had somewhere to be – or someone to avoid.

Had he seen me get on the train? Did he know I was behind him now?

I trailed him through the station, weaving between commuters, heart hammering. When he turned left at the exit, I nearly lost him. I pushed through the turnstiles and caught a glimpse of him again, heading down a narrow side street, swallowed by a turn.

The midday light was sharp, reflecting off shop fronts and car windows. He’d put on sunglasses now. Protection against the glare, or a disguise?

He crossed the street in a break between cars, moving fast.

I darted forward to follow—

A horn blared, splitting the air.

A white sedan shot past, the driver’s face a blur of irritation.

I had almost been hit.

I stumbled back onto the curb, heart pounding so hard I thought I might faint.

When I looked up again, he was gone.

I spun in place, scanning the street – the café on the corner, the group of students passing by, the steady flow of cars – but there was no sign of him.

I’d found him, and now, I’d lost him all over again.

A cold breeze whipped through, cutting across my cheeks. I closed my eyes for a second, willing the world to stop spinning.

Maybe none of this was real.

What if I was finally cracking under the weight of it all? The months of sleepless nights, the ghost of his voice echoing in my head? Maybe this was what it felt like to unravel: a moment of certainty so vivid you actually believed it was real.

I opened my eyes. The street was ordinary. Just people going about their day, cars humming past, exhaust fumes mingling faintly with the scent of coffee from a nearby café.

And yet, it felt like the world had just tilted on its axis.

Because I’d seen something that shouldn’t be possible.

If I was going to move forward with my life, I needed the truth.

Even if it wasn’t the truth I wanted to see.