MY MISSING WIFE

I married Anya on September 6th, 2022. It was the happiest day of my life. I'd married the woman I loved, the woman I wanted to grow old with, the woman I wanted to mother my children.

Then, everything changed.

January 11th, 2023. I took her to a carnival in Chicago. I left her to buy tickets, but when I returned… she was gone.

She vanished. I haven't seen her since. A year gone.

I was busy with work when my phone rang.

"Hello, what can I do for you?"

"Hello, is this David Miller?"

"Yes? What's up?"

"This is Detective Miller from the Chicago PD. We apprehended a human trafficking ring. Several victims died trying to escape, but seven survived, including your wife. She's at the station—"

I dropped my phone. I grabbed my jacket and keys, racing to find Anya. My heart pounded; tears streamed down my face.

At the station, I barely recognized her. Her long hair was cut short; her skin was pale; her clothes were plain, not the elegant outfits she usually wore.

"A-Anya…" I stammered.

She looked shocked, slowly rising.

"H-Hi…" she said awkwardly, raising a hand.

A smile broke across my face at the sound of her voice. I hugged her tightly.

"I missed you so much, honey," I whispered, stroking her hair, tears falling.

February 4th, 2023. I had my wife back.

For two days, nothing changed. She was quiet, just like before.

She sat on our bed. I touched her cheek.

"How are you feeling?" I asked softly.

"I-I'm fine," she replied.

I smiled, about to kiss her, but she turned her head. I laughed, patting her head.

"You haven't changed," I said, kissing her cheek.

But things changed. She became talkative, meeting me at the door, helping me out of my suit. She cooked breakfast, packed my lunch, and made dinner.

She cared for me, and I loved it. I saw her laugh for the first time in ages. She was tender, and I loved her even more.

Whispers woke me. Anya was on the phone, her voice tight with anger. She hung up, smiling at me.

"You're awake," she said brightly.

I smiled, hugging her.

"Your problems are my problems. Tell me anything, I'm your husband," I said seriously.

She looked into my eyes, squeezing my cheek. "Of course, honey."

I looked at the ceiling.

"If we had a kid, what would you name it?" I asked.

"I'd name it Via if it's a girl, then Theo if it's a boy" she replied.

I smiled, closing my eyes.

Months later, our relationship was thriving. I was writing when my phone rang. It was my police friend, Mark.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Hey, can we talk? Are you free?"

"Sure, text me the place."

"Okay, see you," he said.

Minutes later, I received his text and went to the cafe. He was there, drinking coffee.

"Sorry I'm late," I said, sitting down.

"It's important. You need to know this," he said seriously.

"What is it?"

He slid a photo across the table. A woman, bathed in blood.

"I'm sorry, but the woman you're with… isn't Anya. It's her twin sister, Alina. Alina was abducted in 2017 and escaped in 2022. Your wife, Anya, died when the ring was busted. They mistook Alina for Anya."

I stood, returning the photo.

"I don't believe it," I said, leaving him.

Tears streamed down my face as I drove. I'd known for a while that something was off. Her clothes, her speech, her mannerisms… Anya dressed more boldly; Alina was understated. Anya never slept next to me; Alina did. Anya wasn't tender; Alina was. I confirmed it when I asked about baby names. Anya always said, "I don't want kids with someone I don't love."

Anya only married me for money.

Alina greeted me at the door, smiling. Instead of telling her the truth, I smiled back, hugging her.

"Honey, I'm home," I said.

She smiled. "Welcome home, honey."

It's better to believe a lie than face the painful truth.

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