Chapter 26 - The Husband I Buried

Now

I read an update from Carl.

Still getting through stuff. Will get back to you later. You in today?

I punched out a message with my thumbs.

WFH. Keep me posted.

Elizabeth wasn’t going to like it, but Elizabeth would have to suck it up. I had bigger things to think about than her sudden interest in my life.

*

It turned out Sofia Vega wasn’t that hard to find.

All it took was a search with her name and the city they’d lived in before Luis and I met. Within minutes, I had her Instagram, with a smiling baby as the profile picture, and a neglected LinkedIn account that hadn’t been updated in almost two years.

Her name popped up on a few social media accounts, all private. No photos to confirm anything, no recent activity. But LinkedIn told me enough. Her business, Little Vega Designs, sold handcrafted baby furniture and accessories.

Sofia’s baby store was another reminder of a future I wouldn’t have with Luis.

We’d talked about kids, but we were waiting for the right time. Maybe once work settled down, and I wasn’t worrying about how long a client might go to jail for something they didn’t do if I couldn’t find a way to show they were innocent.

I could see how a distance might’ve grown between us. Maybe I hadn’t put him first enough. It was always work, then Luis. Maybe he got tired of waiting.

I tried not to think about it, to focus instead on Sofia’s LinkedIn profile.

Her photo was a professional headshot. She looked poised and self-assured, with dark, glossy hair, and a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes. The kind of woman who didn’t rattle easily.

The woman I’d seen at the cemetery had lighter hair, but hair dye was an easy disguise.

I checked her employment history, clicked through old posts, and found an address connected to her small business license.

It was a start.

Sofia may have been at Luis’s funeral. There were a few people there who I didn’t know and hadn’t paid much attention to on the day, too lost in my own grief. She could have been one of them.

I considered sending a message, but it was too easy to ignore, or get spam-filtered. If Luis had been important to her once, she deserved to hear the truth face to face.

And I needed to look her in the eye when I asked if she’d been to the cemetery.

I gave Tess food and water, then took her for a quick walk around the block.

‘I’ll be back soon,’ I told her, scratching behind her ear.

An hour later, I pulled into a quiet suburban street. Each house looked like it was ordered out of the same catalogue. Perfect lawns, matching mailboxes, symmetry everywhere. Even the trashcans were lined up neatly for collection.

Sofia’s house fit in perfectly. A new Mercedes in the driveway. A toddler’s tricycle, bright pink and spotless, leaning neatly by the steps.

I took a breath, trying to steady the nerves fluttering under my skin. What was I doing here?

I hadn’t planned what I was going to say. Hi, I’m your ex-boyfriend’s wife. I buried him four months ago, but I think he’s still alive. Do you happen to know anything about that? And by the way, were you at his grave this morning?

Right. Totally normal. I’d definitely need to tone it down.

I knocked on the door.

The woman who answered didn’t look like someone who had just been crying at her ex’s grave. She looked immaculate. She wore a crisp linen suit in deep sable, lips painted red, skin flawless. I looked at the tricycle again. If she was tired, she hid it well. I scanned her face but I didn’t recognize her.

‘Sofia Vega?’ I asked, feeling very underdressed.

She hesitated, the faintest wrinkle appearing between her brows.

‘Yes?’ Her tone was polite but cautious.

‘My name is Mackenzie Morgan. I’m sorry to show up like this,’ I began, suddenly aware how I might seem, turning up on her doorstep to question her about her ex. I cleared my throat. ‘I know this is . . . strange,’ I started. ‘But I think you used to know my husband.’

Her gaze sharpened slightly, like I was accusing her of something. ‘Your husband?’

Sofia was beautiful. There were probably a few exes before she settled down. She had a gentleness about her that suggested she was comfortable in her own skin and used to being around people.

‘Luis Tyndale,’ I said.

I watched as it sunk in, a wistful smile crossing her face. ‘Oh, Luis. Yes.’ She hesitated. ‘Would you like to come in?’ she offered.

‘I won’t take up much of your time,’ I said automatically, but she was already stepping aside.

The house smelled faintly of vanilla and something floral. A half-packed diaper bag sat on the counter, surrounded by toddler paraphernalia. Toys. A bottle. Wipes. Framed photos filled the walls. A radiant Sofia, holding a baby with chubby cheeks and a halo of soft brown curls.

The sight of the man beside her, smiling down at them both, stopped me cold.

Same olive skin. Same dark eyes. Same dimple that used to appear when Luis laughed at one of his own jokes.

For a second, I couldn’t breathe.

‘He’s handsome, isn’t he?’ Sofia said lightly, following my gaze. ‘That’s my husband, Mateo.’

Mateo. Sofia had a type.

I nodded, though my pulse was still hammering. ‘You have a beautiful family.’

‘Thank you.’ She smiled distractedly, picked up a small toy from the floor and placed it by the counter. ‘Our daughter keeps us busy. Since she started crawling, there have been toys everywhere.’ She laughed, more proud than apologetic. ‘She thinks it’s a game. I pick them up and she tosses them everywhere she can reach.’

‘How old is she?’ I asked.

‘She’ll be one next month. Time flies.’

Eleven months.

Luis had been alive eleven months ago.

I tried to sound casual. ‘She looks a lot like her father.’

Sofia gave a soft laugh, but there was a hesitation before it. ‘Everyone says that.’ She checked her watch. ‘She’ll be up from her nap in around twenty minutes.’

I smiled, but my throat felt dry.

When she gestured to the kitchen table, I followed, sitting opposite her. She moved with the kind of curated composure that comes from control – someone who plans her mornings down to the minute, whose world doesn’t just happen to her.

‘So,’ she said, folding her hands. ‘Did you want to ask something about Luis?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Do you remember much about him?’

Sofia’s smile widened. ‘How could I forget Luis. He was a big part of my life once.’

I knew that tone. It made me wonder if Luis was Sofia’s ‘one that got away’.

I listened, hesitant to interrupt.

‘He was charming. Infuriating sometimes, but we were young and very in love. Though, if I’m being honest, it was never going to last.’ She tilted her head. ‘We wanted different things.’

It was the kind of statement that sounded rehearsed. Tidy.

‘Have you seen him since you broke up?’

Sofia hesitated. It was subtle, but I caught it, the pause before she spoke. ‘No. Not in years.’ Then, a quick, bright laugh. ‘Why? Is he in trouble?’ She shifted uneasily.

I didn’t blame her for being hesitant. A woman claiming to be her ex-boyfriend’s wife knocks on her door, asking questions about their relationship; she’s obviously looking for dirt.

‘Not exactly,’ I said.

I felt a sudden urge to blurt, ‘I thought he was dead, but he’s not. I buried him, and then I saw him catching the train.’ But I bit it back. I didn’t know Sofia well enough to unload. I would have to stick with the facts for now.

‘He died,’ I said.

The words landed like shattered glass between us.

Sofia’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh my god.’ Her eyes shimmered, but she didn’t cry. ‘How? What happened?’

‘Car accident,’ I said. ‘The police told me it was instant. He was driving and he crashed.’

She was clearly shocked by the news. If she already knew he was dead, she was a great actor. She fell silent, gathering herself before she spoke again.

‘I did see him once,’ she said. ‘It would’ve been a few years ago.’ She seemed to swallow back emotion. ‘It was just after he met you, actually. He was happy. He couldn’t stop gushing about you, but it wasn’t like where you run into your ex, and you’re both just trying to win the breakup, you know? He asked me how I was, and when I asked him, he looked almost bashful about it. Like he didn’t want to admit how happy he was. Like he knew we’d done the right thing breaking up.’

I felt a lump in my throat. It wasn’t what I was expecting to hear when I came here. I waited a beat, then pulled out my phone. ‘There’s something else,’ I said carefully. ‘There was a woman at his grave earlier today. When I saw her, I wondered if maybe it was you.’

Her brows knit together. ‘His grave? No, I— Why would I be . . .’

I turned the screen toward her, showing the photo I’d taken. It was a terrible shot, barely more than a distant blob, but it was clear the woman was standing over Luis’s grave, delivering something. ‘She brought daisies,’ I said.

Sofia’s eyes fixed on it. ‘Well, it’s not me,’ she said, almost defensively.

‘No,’ I agreed. ‘But whoever she is . . . she knew where to find him.’

She pushed the phone gently back toward me. ‘I’m sorry. I wish I could help.’

A sound crackled through the baby monitor. A soft cry. Sofia excused herself and disappeared down the hall.

I stayed seated, my gaze drawn back to the family photo on the wall. The baby’s eyes were the same deep blue as Luis’s.

I could almost hear his voice. ‘You’re overthinking it, Kenzie. A lot of people have blue eyes.’

Maybe. But my gut didn’t trust anything. This could have been Luis’s life if he had married Sofia instead of me.

When Sofia returned, she had the baby on her hip, half asleep against her shoulder. ‘Sorry,’ she said softly. ‘She doesn’t like being alone when she wakes.’

‘No problem,’ I said.

Her voice was gentle again, composed. ‘Luis was . . . complicated. But he had a good heart.’

I nodded, unable to speak. It felt like she was trying to tell me something.

‘Is there anything else you want to ask?’ she said, and I could see it lurking behind her eyes. There was something more she wanted to say, but couldn’t find the words for.

‘What was he like back then?’

I couldn’t leave without knowing. I’d spent years trying to piece Luis together from the fragments he’d let me see, but there were whole chapters of his life that were still a mystery.

If I’d met him back then – before the army, before the drinking, before the walls he built – would we still have fallen into that easy rhythm? Would I have seen what was coming?

Sofia’s expression softened, her gaze drifting somewhere far behind me. ‘He was fun,’ she said, her voice threaded with nostalgia. ‘Restless. He didn’t take himself too seriously. Always chasing the next thrill, always with some wild idea.’ She smiled faintly, but it faded almost as quickly. ‘He never really grew up. He had this boyish quality, spontaneous, a free spirit.’

I nodded like I understood. Although he had moments when he’d kick back and be spontaneous, the Luis I knew was more measured. Every so often I’d glimpse the Luis Sofia had described, like somewhere inside, that devil-may-care boy still existed, but with me he had always been more assured, more grown up. That playful streak emerged when he wanted something . . .

‘He couldn’t be pushed into anything he didn’t want to do,’ Sofia continued. ‘His parents tried to steer him, but he always had his own ideas. They thought he was wasting his life. People thought he was some rich kid whose parents handed him everything, but he wasn’t like that. He enlisted in the army to prove them wrong.’

Her expression darkened. I knew what the army did to him, but Sofia would’ve seen the change in him after he returned. I remembered the nights when he’d go quiet if the topic veered too close to that part of his life. The light in his eyes would dull, the silence thickening between us until I changed the subject.

I let out a slow breath. ‘I know his time in the army affected him, but he never really told me what happened.’ My throat tightened. ‘I remember the nights he couldn’t sleep. The drinking. I thought it was his way of coping.’

Sofia’s voice dropped, quieter now. ‘He came back different. There were things he wouldn’t tell me either. Sometimes he’d joke about it, but . . .’ She trailed off, something unreadable crossing her face. ‘You should talk to Keith. They served together. If anyone knows what happened there, it’s him.’

‘Keith?’

‘Yes—’ The baby started crying and Sofia was distracted, jiggling her on a hip. She passed her a toy and she settled.

Keith. The name sounded familiar. I was pretty sure Luis had mentioned him once or twice. But like all his stories from the army, it was always vague, always guarded.

I shot a look at Sofia, but she was still focused on the baby, smoothing her hair. Beneath her poise, I saw the exhaustion now.

I suddenly felt like I was intruding. ‘I should go,’ I said, pushing to my feet.

‘Wait,’ she said suddenly, reaching out to touch my hand. Her fingers were cool, trembling slightly. ‘Whatever Luis was mixed up in . . . be careful.’ Her eyes flicked toward the baby, then back to me. ‘He didn’t always choose the right people to trust.’

Her words sent a chill down my spine. ‘What do you mean?’ I asked, but she was already turning away. The conversation was over.

‘One last thing,’ I said before she disappeared down the hall. ‘Keith – how can I contact him?’

‘I’ll text you his number,’ she called back. ‘Can’t promise it still works.’

I recited my number so she could send it and waited for the familiar ping.

‘Thank you,’ I said when a message popped up on my screen.

Outside, the air felt cooler than it had when I’d arrived. I stood at the curb for a moment, keys in hand, watching my breath cloud in the air. Didn’t always choose the right people to trust.

Sofia’s words echoed long after I got into the car.

Had Luis been mixed up in something he couldn’t get out of?