Funeral for My Living Wife

"Serves her right! Seriously, how can someone be this cruel?" Hugh's rant got hotter by the second.

I cut him off fast. "Enough. Today's my wife's funeral. I'm supposed to be grieving."

I hit the bathroom mirror, didn't bother washing up—kept the wrecked, heartbroken look on purpose.

Hugh gave me a once-over and nodded. We left for the funeral home.

On the way, I slipped him a USB with the videos of Nancy alive, told him to play it only when I gave the cue.

Only then did I drop the funeral address.

Vienna got there first—head-to-toe black. She stepped out, took a memorial card, and said, "My 'condolences.'"

A steady stream of relatives and friends followed—real faces, real grief. They had no clue. Watching them hurt twisted something in my chest.

Nancy, your little vanishing act didn't just hurt me—it hurt everyone who cared about you.

Today, you're going to pay for that.

Next came her so-called besties—every one of them a wreck. Shaky hands, red eyes, grabbing memorial cards.

One yanked me aside. "Jensen! Stop this! Nancy's not dead—she's been freaking out trying to find you! Didn't you see the missing person ad?"

I blinked, let two tears slide. "Don't. That ad was Finley's drama. The dead don't drop ads. I'm not falling for it."

She tried again, but I shot Hugh a look. He got the message—sat her down fast.

Once the room filled, I hit the mic.

"Thanks for coming to my wife's—"

"Jensen Johnston! Are you outta your mind?" Finley burst in, fire in his eyes. "I told you, Nancy's not dead!

"You're her husband. She's been missing three months—no body, no proof—and you throw a funeral? Not happening."

I glanced past him. No Nancy.

Still ghosting. Even now.

I locked eyes with Finley. "You won't allow it? Who even are you to stop me? Like you said—I'm her husband."

His face cracked, eyes glassy. "How can you be this cold? Nancy loves you! And you just write her off like she's dead? What if she's out there?"

I glanced at the fresh hickeys on his neck. Smirked. "Even if she is, cheating trash isn't my problem anymore."

I nodded for someone to move him out of the way and turned back to the mic.

Just as I opened my mouth—

A frail mess of a woman showed up in the doorway.

She croaked, "Honey, I'm not dead. I'm back."