It was the precise day Emily made her decision: the time had finally come to truly live, to cease the endless postponement of her own happiness. «I am only thirty-five years old, I am a woman, and I absolutely deserve to be happy,» she mused aloud, the sound of her own voice strengthening her resolve as she flipped open her laptop and navigated to a travel agency’s website.
For the first time in three long, stagnant years, she allowed herself the luxury of dreaming about a vacation, a real escape with her son to warmer, sun-drenched shores. Her eyes scanned the vibrant, high-definition images of «all-inclusive» deals in Florida, California, and other popular resorts. The turquoise pools and golden sands were dazzling, and Emily couldn’t decide—her gaze darted feverishly from one tempting option to another.
But after scrolling through several pages of exotic destinations, her cursor hovered and paused on a listing for a small, coastal town located right in her home state. A wave of nostalgia washed over her. The town was deeply familiar from her youth; she had visited it first with boisterous friends during college, and later, in a different life, with her family—her husband James and their young son, Ethan.
James had swept into her life like a whirlwind when she was just twenty-five. He was tall, undeniably attractive, and carried the effortless confidence of a successful man. He possessed an undeniable charm that had captivated Emily instantly.
Their relationship had read like pages torn from a clichéd romance novel: spontaneous road trips with the windows down, unexpected bouquets of flowers, and days filled with endless joy. When Ethan was born, it felt like the natural, perfect continuation of their fairytale existence.
But barely a year after Ethan arrived, the atmosphere in their home began to shift. James was home less and less often, citing late nights at the office, and extended business trips became a staple of his life. He began to lie frequently, his demeanor grew cold and distant, and he flatly refused to engage in family life.
Emily tried desperately to push away the gnawing thoughts that he was seeing another woman. She confronted him multiple times, demanding the truth, but he always denied her suspicions, brushing them off with a wave of his hand. Yet his emotional detachment, his complete lack of interest in their family and their son, was too obvious to ignore. James provided money, certainly, but he offered neither his time nor his attention.
Then came the evening that shattered everything. James simply vanished. He left the house and never returned. Emily remembered that night with agonizing clarity. She spent three days pacing the floorboards of their apartment, her phone fused to her hand, praying he would call.
«Mom, why are you so sad?» her young son asked softly, sensing the tension.
«I’m not sad, sweetie, just very tired. Go to bed,» she replied, forcing a gentle tone.
Ethan, blissfully unaware that his father might never return, obediently went to sleep. In those terrifying days, Emily hid her crushing anxiety from her son. To Ethan, his dad was simply on another long, boring business trip.
But worry consumed her alive. Unable to wait any longer, she called James’s company to find out what was happening. When the voice of the CEO, Arthur Thompson, came on the line, her heart froze in her chest. She knew him from various corporate events and clung to the hope that he’d have answers.
«Emily, what business trip are you talking about?» Arthur asked, his voice laced with genuine surprise. «James took unpaid leave. There are no factory projects running right now like he told you.»
Arthur’s words cut through her confusion like a knife. James’s lies were now undeniable facts. Emily sank onto the couch, covering her face with her trembling hands. How could he do this? Her patience snapped, the dam broke, and she realized she couldn’t live like this for one more second. It was over.
But then, the phone rang again. It was Arthur.
«Emily, I need to tell you something… but it’s better said in person. Can I come over?»
When Arthur arrived at her door, he looked shaken to his core.
«Emily, James… he crashed through the ice on a snowmobile. The rescuers have been searching, but they couldn’t find his body. Given the conditions… there is no chance he is alive.»
The words hit her like a thunderclap on a clear summer day. The entire reality she had built in her mind collapsed into dust.
Just half an hour ago, she was cursing James, planning her strategy to leave him. Now, she was being told he was gone forever. She froze, her mind unable to process the shift. Arthur spoke of legal matters, insurance, and inheritance, but his words barely registered in her ears.
«Mom, why are you crying?» Ethan asked, appearing in the doorway at the absolute worst moment. «What’s wrong with Dad?»
Emily hesitated, her heart breaking. How do you tell a five-year-old boy that his father will never return? She stalled, choosing a softer truth.
«Dad’s gone on another trip, Ethan. He won’t be back for a long time.»
The boy paused, processing this, and then asked the question she dreaded most:
«When will he come back?»
«Not for a while, sweetie. He has a very tough job,» she said quietly, barely holding back the flood of tears threatening to spill over.
In that moment, Emily felt a strange, dark relief that James had distanced himself from Ethan in recent years. Maybe, in time, Ethan would stop asking about him. But how would she cope with her own tangled mess of pain?
Emily was torn apart by mixed emotions. Despite the betrayal, she realized she still loved James. Now that he was gone forever, she couldn’t forgive herself for thinking of divorce just moments before the news. Flipping through their family photo album, she tortured herself with memories of their best moments—snowmobile rides, laughter, the look of love in his eyes.
She slammed the album shut. The brief moment of calm faded, replaced by a wave of grief that gripped her heart like a vice. To avoid breaking down completely, she focused all her energy on her son’s peace. She wanted to run, to scream, to call someone and demand they keep searching the icy waters for James, but cold reason held her back. What would it change?
Each time her thoughts returned to that horrific accident, she was baffled. She remembered how skilled James was on a snowmobile. He knew the machines like the back of his hand, yet something had gone terribly wrong. To calm her frayed nerves, she took some valerian drops and tried to lie down, but sleep refused to come.
Time passed. James was officially declared dead, though his body was never found. Arthur kept his promise: he helped with the complex inheritance paperwork, provided a financial safety net, and even offered Emily a remote job at the company. It allowed her to balance earning a living with caring for Ethan. But deep down, she couldn’t fully accept her loss.
Three years later, a colorful website ad flashed on her screen—a smiling woman holding airline tickets and a sign reading «Happy Family Vacation.» Emily sighed heavily and clicked «Buy.» It was her first concrete step toward a new chapter.
«Ethan!» she called out loudly, her voice stronger than it had been in years. «We’re going on vacation next week!»
It was time to stop being the tragic widow whose husband first betrayed her and then tragically died. Emily resolved to learn to live again. The week flew by in a blur of packing and preparation, and soon she and Ethan were standing at the airport, waiting to board. The last time she’d been in this terminal was years ago with James, back when they had sent Ethan to his grandma’s so they could fly to Miami for a romantic getaway.
Memories flooded back, but Emily pushed them away firmly. She gripped Ethan’s hand and headed to the departure gate. In the waiting area, she scanned the crowd out of habit: a group of teens laughed at a video on a phone, two elderly women flipped through newspapers. Nearby, a couple sat—a young woman, perhaps around twenty-five, and a man wearing a wide-brimmed hat. They were animatedly talking, though the woman seemed more engrossed in her phone than the conversation. Emily decided not to linger on them and checked her own phone.
When boarding was finally announced, Emily and Ethan took their seats.
«Ethan, this is your first real flight!» she said cheerfully, as he settled into the window seat.
«Awesome, Mom, it’s so cool we’re flying together!» he beamed.
Emily froze for a moment, the realization hitting her that this was indeed their first flight alone, without James. She sighed with relief, noting that Ethan didn’t remember his last flight when he was barely two years old.
Back then, James had held Ethan securely on his lap, and they’d watched the clouds together. Now, those memories were fading, and Emily resolved to move forward. She called a flight attendant, asked for a cup of water, and tried to close her eyes to sleep.
«Mom, I need the bathroom,» Ethan woke her, nudging her arm.
«I’ll take you,» she began to unbuckle.
«Mom, no! I’m big now, I’m eight! I can find it myself. The flight attendant showed us where it is. I’ll ask if I need help.»
She watched him confidently stride to the front of the plane, where a flight attendant kindly pointed him to the restroom. Assured he was fine, Emily relaxed and gazed out the window. The flight was smooth, cruising at altitude, when the captain’s voice interrupted her thoughts:
«Ladies and gentlemen, we are approaching a turbulent area. Please remain calm; it’s normal and will pass in a minute.»
No sooner had the announcement ended than the plane shook violently. Emily’s heart raced. She started to stand to check on Ethan, but a stern voice came from behind her:
«Ma’am, please sit down. You must stay seated during turbulence.»
The flight attendant was trying to guide her back, but Emily protested:
«My son’s in the bathroom, I need to get to him.»
«Don’t worry, he’ll be fine,» the attendant assured her firmly.
Just then, the bathroom door clicked open, and Ethan emerged. After a few steps, he slowed down, his eyes going wide. Then he hurried back down the aisle, visibly shaken. When he reached their row, he was pale and looked frightened.
«Mom,» he whispered, trembling.
«Did the turbulence scare you? It’s just a little shaking, nothing dangerous,» Emily said, reaching out to soothe him. But Ethan seemed not to hear.
«Mom… Dad’s on the plane with some lady,» he said quietly.
Emily froze, her blood turning to ice.
«Sweetie, you must be mistaken,» she replied quickly, letting him slide into his seat and buckling him in.
«No, it was him! His hair’s different, but it’s definitely Dad,» Ethan insisted with the certainty only a child possesses. Emily struggled to stay calm.
«You’re probably tired, honey. Why don’t you rest?»
But Ethan pressed on: «You don’t believe me?»
«I believe you saw someone who looks like him, but lots of people look alike,» she said, trying to sound confident for his sake.
Inside, her world was spinning off its axis. «How could this be?» she thought, desperately convincing herself Ethan was wrong. It would be easy enough to stand up and check, but she couldn’t bring herself to look. The thought of seeing someone who looked like her late husband terrified her. For the rest of the flight, she stayed rigid in her seat, avoiding even glancing at the aisle.
An hour and a half later, the plane began its descent and landed safely twenty minutes after that. Passengers rushed to grab their bags from the overhead bins. Emily took her time, disliking the chaos. But then, someone in a front row stood to retrieve their luggage—and she saw him. The man looked strikingly, heartbreakingly like James. His face was fuller, his hairstyle was different, but… there was that distinctive mole by his chin.
«It’s impossible,» Emily thought, unable to tear her eyes away. «No, it’s a dream, a ridiculous coincidence. I can’t believe this!»
The man donned his wide-brimmed hat, took a blonde woman by the hand, and joined the aisle. The hat obscured his face, and Emily, her lips pressed into a tight line, decided to stay put. She waited until most passengers had left to avoid crossing paths with him.
As they exited the plane, Emily spotted an airline employee at a check-in counter. Though the woman was busy handling paperwork for another flight, Emily approached her.
«Excuse me, can I ask you something?» she began.
«I’m sorry, I’m busy with another flight,» the employee replied politely but dismissively.
«I know, but it’s urgent,» Emily lowered her voice. «I think my husband, who disappeared years ago, was on this flight.»
The employee paused and glanced at Emily, then down at Ethan. Something softened in her expression, and she decided to bend the rules. Tapping at her screen, she asked:
«Last name, first name?»
«Wilson, James Michael,» Emily replied, holding her breath.
«I’m sorry, no passenger by that name was on this flight,» the employee said after checking the manifest.
«Thank you,» Emily whispered, feeling a wave of relief. She took Ethan’s hand and headed to baggage claim.
As the suitcases rolled by on the carousel, Emily caught a glimpse of the man in the hat near the exit. He’d already grabbed his luggage and, hand-in-hand with his companion, was heading out. «Thank God it’s not him. But that mole… No, it’s just a coincidence. Focus on the vacation,» she told herself sternly.
They took a taxi to their hotel. The spacious room with a breathtaking sea view instantly charmed Emily. She stepped onto the balcony, breathed in the salty, restorative air, and mentally released her worries into the wind.
The first three days were absolute perfection—sunny weather, free beach chairs, the soothing sound of waves, and Ethan’s infectious laughter. The only disturbance was occasional shouting from the room next door, where a man and woman seemed to argue nightly. But even that didn’t ruin Emily’s enjoyment or her ability to sleep soundly after busy days in the sun.
On the fourth evening, Emily stepped onto the balcony for some fresh air. She overheard her noisy neighbors arguing on the balcony below.
«Can you, for once, think about something other than money?» the man snapped.
«What, I’m supposed to think about something else? Provide for me first, then demand more!» the woman shot back sharply.
Emily hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the man’s familiar tone caught her attention.
«Are you mocking me? I brought you to a decent resort, and it’s still not enough! You want the Bahamas, Hawaii!» he continued.
«This place is a dump! Don’t you see? It’s a four-star roach motel!» the woman laughed loudly, a cruel sound.
Emily froze, listening intently. The man’s voice was too familiar. And when he said, quietly but with seething irritation, «What’ll you be like at forty?» her heart stopped. It was James’s favorite phrase, his signature way of ending arguments.
«No, it can’t be!» Emily closed her eyes, hoping she’d misheard. Panic surged through her veins.
«Ethan, I’ll be back soon,» she said, rushing off the balcony. She darted into the hallway, pressed the elevator button, but impatience sent her running down the stairs.
Ignoring propriety or common sense, Emily pressed her ear to the neighbors’ door. The man’s tirade continued:
«You think I’ll chase you? Where are you gonna go? Who’d put up with you for more than a month?»
«I don’t care, I’ve got plenty of options!» the woman shouted back.
«Go wherever you want!»
«You’ll regret this!» The door slammed open violently, and the woman stormed out.
Emily barely ducked around the corner to avoid being seen. The thought that her «dead» husband could be behind that door wouldn’t let go of her. This couldn’t be a coincidence. The plane, the mole, the voice—it all pointed to one thing. Or was it her imagination playing tricks?
She stepped to a window at the hall’s end to compose herself. «What am I doing? Hiding, eavesdropping, stalking a stranger like I’m in a cheap thriller,» she scolded herself. Then the door opened again. The man stepped out. She averted her gaze but caught his reflection in the dark glass of the window. Her heart skipped a beat—this profile, these movements…
Emily followed him. She trailed him down the stairs, keeping her distance. He headed straight to the hotel bar and sat at the counter, ordering a drink. «This is insane,» she thought, but something drove her forward. She took a seat nearby, pretending to sip a drink, every muscle focused on the man. She hoped the dim lighting would keep her unrecognized.
After a while, the alcohol seemed to loosen him. He suddenly turned to her:
«Lady… tell me… why are women so complicated?»
Emily flinched. He was talking to her. His voice was achingly familiar, driving her to the edge of sanity.
«Complicated how?» she asked in a low voice, afraid to look up.
«Complicated… unpredictable,» he fumbled for words.
«You probably just fought with your girlfriend. Now you want someone to tell you you’re right.»
He paused, clearly struck by her words. «You’re sharp… female intuition? Go on, what do you mean?»
Emily sighed, deciding to be blunt:
«No one’s forcing you to chase young, naive girls. It’s your choice to cheat on smart, mature women. Then you complain that the young ones only want your money.»
«You read me like a book,» he chuckled darkly. «But there’s this thing called hormones. They push us toward the young ones.»
«How convenient to blame hormones. Controlling instincts is what makes us human, not animals. Why the hormone excuse? But I’ve probably said too much.»
«No, it’s fine. I asked,» he agreed, ordering another drink and downing it quickly.
«I’m pretty buzzed already,» he admitted. «One more question?»
«Go ahead,» Emily nodded.
«You’re so smart—tell me, what do I do now?»
«No clue,» she shrugged. «Learn to control your instincts. But I bet your girlfriend will come back in a day or two. What you do with her then is up to you. I’m not a therapist.»
«Maybe I should dump her? You know, I feel like we’ve met before,» he said suddenly, studying her more closely. But the dim light hid her face.
Emily tensed, her heart racing. «I doubt it. First time here.»
«Your voice sounds so familiar,» he pressed, still staring.
«You’re probably mixing me up with someone,» she said quickly, realizing it was time to leave.
She called the elevator, struggling to manage the flood of emotions. Now she was certain—it was James. All doubts vanished. The mole, voice, mannerisms, gaze—everything matched perfectly. If she’d briefly considered he might be a brother or cousin, this conversation erased that. It was him, her dead husband, living a new life, dating other women, leaving her and Ethan behind.
She recalled how James got when he drank—not rowdy, just talkative. He was the same now, unchanged after three years. Only now, his partners came and went, and Emily was just a random stranger he chatted with.
What now? Confront him? Why? What would it change? But curiosity gnawed at her. Who else from their old circle knew he was alive? What name was he using, if he wasn’t on the flight manifest?
Emily saw two paths. First: accept that James was alive but no longer part of her life. Keep living, enjoy vacations, forget him forever. In a few years, she could tell Ethan his father didn’t die but left, and no one knows where he is.
Second: face James openly. But that meant hearing his excuses, maybe meeting his new girlfriend. The real risk was her own feelings—they might reignite. Mourning a dead husband was one thing; facing a liar and traitor was another. What love could remain for such a man?
The next day, Emily and Ethan headed to the beach. The weather had cleared, and they needed to grab good spots. At the hotel, the beach wasn’t too crowded, but sunny days filled up fast. In front of the mirror, Emily chose her outfit carefully: oversized sunglasses that nearly hid her face and a wide-brimmed hat. It wasn’t just sun protection—it was a shield against running into James. They could cross paths any moment.
Ready, she took Ethan’s hand, and they headed to the elevator. It took a while, as morning beachgoers filled the halls. The elevator stopped a floor below, and the doors opened. A woman with dyed hair stepped in—James’s companion. Her face was grim.
«How long was I supposed to wait? People pop out kids and hog the elevators,» she snapped irritably.
«Sorry, but the elevator’s for everyone, and we all wait the same,» Emily replied calmly.
«I don’t care how long you waited,» the woman shot back, glaring. «Dressed like an old lady and still complaining.»
Instead of snapping back, Emily covered Ethan’s ears and silently guided him to the ground floor.
The hotel lobby was bustling, and the woman quickly vanished into the crowd, to Emily’s relief. She was likely rushing to James, sparing an awkward encounter.
At the beach, Emily’s guess was confirmed. The woman was heading to James, who’d already claimed loungers for them. Unfortunately, the only free spots were nearby. There was no escaping the proximity, but Emily resolved not to let it ruin her vacation. She walked past, set up their things, and began applying sunscreen to Ethan as if nothing was wrong.
But drama wasn’t far off. The couple’s argument erupted almost immediately.
«Couldn’t you find a spot closer to the water?» the woman snapped.
«This was the closest available. To get waterfront, you’d need to wake up earlier, not sleep till noon,» James replied.
«Who’re you to talk? You were out drinking till 2 a.m.! I couldn’t sleep waiting for you, so I didn’t get up early,» she retorted.
«Reminder: you stormed out yesterday. How was I supposed to know you’d slink back in a few hours?»
«I’m doing you a favor by coming back, forgetting all your lies and nastiness!» she shouted. «How dare you talk to me like that? This hotel’s an insult! This place is awful! You know how long I waited for the elevator? Stuck with some single mom and her kid!»
The word «single mom» stung Emily. She bowed her head, trying to tune them out, but their voices carried.
«When will you stop being so bitter?» James asked quietly.
«And when will you stop being so pathetic? Look at yourself! Who do you even resemble?» she sneered.
Emily glanced up at James, curious about his appearance now. What she saw unsettled her. He looked pale, his eyes darted nervously, and his hands trembled, as if from exhaustion or illness. He seemed worn out, likely from the previous night’s drinking.
«Rita, I need to lie down,» he whispered, then collapsed onto the lounger, unconscious.
«James! What’s wrong?» Rita cried, her irritation turning to genuine fear. Her face showed real concern.
«Help! Someone, help him!» she screamed.
It was hard to tell if Rita feared losing her partner or her financial security.
Emily sprang from her lounger and rushed to James. She checked his breathing and pulse—he was breathing, but his heartbeat was weak.
«Get an umbrella! We need to shade him from the sun!» she ordered Rita.
«Umbrella? What for?» Rita stammered, clearly clueless in a crisis.
«Fine, just run to the hotel and get a doctor! Hurry!»
Rita finally dashed off. Onlookers gawked instead of helping. Emily bent James’s knee, turned him on his side, and propped up his head to clear his airway. She grabbed a nearby sun umbrella and set it up beside him.
About thirty seconds later, James stirred, slowly opening his eyes. He saw Emily—the last person he expected.
«Emily… is that you?» he mumbled, still disoriented.
«Yes, it’s me,» she replied calmly, suddenly aware she’d forgotten her disguise—no hat, no sunglasses.
Rita returned with a doctor. The doctor examined James, and Emily stepped back to her lounger. She watched as the doctor injected something, checked James’s condition, and spoke to Rita:
«He’s fine, just a faint, likely from overheating. Get him to a cool place and let him rest.»
«How am I supposed to carry him alone?» Rita complained.
«I’ll walk,» James muttered weakly, standing slowly. He looked around for Emily, but she’d put her hat and sunglasses back on, concealing her face. James and Rita headed to the hotel.
Emily and Ethan ate lunch at a café and returned to their room to rest. As she lay down, her phone rang.
The phone was buried in her beach bag, and she couldn’t find it. At the same moment, there was a knock at the door.
«Hold on!» she called, annoyed, still searching for the phone.
The knock came again.
«What is it? I said wait!» Emily snapped, opening the door.
James stood there.
Emily instinctively slammed the door. Seconds later, his voice came through:
«Emily, wait! Open the door.»
She hesitated, then sighed and opened it again.
«How did you find me?»
«I asked at the front desk for my wife’s room number and gave your name.»
«I’m not your wife anymore.»
«I know this is hard, but please, let me explain.»
«Not now,» she glanced toward the room where Ethan slept. «The kid might hear.»
«Then let’s meet tonight. Hotel bar, 10 p.m. Please, Emily.»
«Fine,» she agreed, curiosity winning out.
«Please come,» James said softly.
