Her eyes widened as she grabbed the arm of a man next to her. They hurried away, disappearing into the crowd of beach-goers.

“Mommy!” Luke cried, but I scooped him up.

“We need to go, buddy.”

“But Dad, it’s Mom! Didn’t you see her? Why didn’t she come say hi?”

I carried him back to our room, my mind reeling. It couldn’t be. I’d buried her. Hadn’t I? But I knew what I saw. That was Stacey. My wife. Luke’s mother. The woman I thought was dead.

That night, after Luke fell asleep, I paced the balcony. My hands shook as I dialed Stacey’s mother.

“Hello?” she answered.

“I need to know exactly what happened to Stacey.”

Silence, then, “We’ve been through this, Abraham.”

“No, tell me again.”

“The accident was early morning. It was too late by the time we reached the hospital.”

“And the body? Why couldn’t I see her?”

“It was too damaged. We thought it best—”

“You thought wrong,” I snapped, hanging up.

I stood there, staring out at the dark ocean. Something wasn’t right. I could feel it in my gut. And I was going to get to the bottom of it.

The next morning, I took Luke to the kids’ club in the resort along with his nanny. “I’ve got a surprise for you later, champ!” I promised, hating myself for the lie.

I spent hours combing the beach, the shops, and the restaurants. No sign of Stacey or her companion. With each passing hour, my frustration grew. Was I going crazy? Had I imagined the whole thing?

As the sun began to set, I slumped onto a bench, defeated. Suddenly, a familiar voice made me jump.

“I knew you’d look for me.”

I turned to find Stacey standing there, alone this time. She looked just like I remembered, but somehow different. Harder. Colder.

“How?” It was all I could manage.

“It’s complicated, Abraham.”

“Then explain it,” I snarled, my hands shaking with anger and shock as I secretly captured her conversation on my phone.

“I never meant for you to find out like this. I’m pregnant.”

“What?”

“It’s not yours,” she whispered, not meeting my eyes.

The story slowly spilled out. An affair. A pregnancy. An elaborate plan to escape.

“My parents helped me,” Stacey admitted. “We knew you’d be away. The timing was perfect.”

“Perfect?” Do you have any idea what you’ve done to Luke? To me?”

Tears streamed down her face. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t face you. This way, everyone could move on.”

“Move on? I thought you were DEAD! Do you know what it’s like to tell your five-year-old son his mother is never coming home?”

“Abraham, please try to understand—”

“Understand what? That you’re a liar? A cheater? That you let me grieve while you ran off with your lover?”