"You said we met years ago. I was only fifteen. You were twenty.
I don’t remember you.
Now you’re telling me I was your wife.
Your dead wife."
He doesn’t flinch. His eyes hold the kind of grief that doesn’t need words. The kind that feels older than both of us.
“I buried you two years ago,” he says quietly. “And then I saw you yesterday—walking like nothing happened.”
I shake my head. My name isn’t the one he calls me. My memories don’t match his stories.
But my hands are trembling. Because something in me does recognise him.
Hello dear readers...
I hope you like this story🥰
This story is based on my imagination.
So please understand guys 🙏
CTTO of the pictures...
NovelToon got authorization from Ms. Lazy to publish this work, the content is the author's own point of view, and does not represent the stand of NovelToon.
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