“…Victor, what are you hiding from me?!” I screamed, struggling against his grip.
His hands tightened around my waist—not violently, but desperately.
“Faith… stop. Just—stop for a second,” he said, his voice shaking in a way I had never heard before.
But I wasn’t listening.
My eyes were locked on the woman sitting on the bed.
Still unmoving.
Still facing away.
“Who is she?!” I cried, my voice breaking. “Answer me, Victor! Who is that woman?!”
There was a long, suffocating silence.
Victor loosened his grip.
“Go ahead,” he said quietly. “Turn her around.”
Something in his tone made my stomach drop.
This wasn’t guilt.
This wasn’t fear of being caught.
This was… something else.
Something worse.
My hands trembled as I stepped forward.
Each step felt heavier than the last, like my body was trying to stop me from reaching the truth.
“Faith… you might not understand immediately,” Victor added behind me.
I ignored him.
I reached out.
My fingers hovered over the woman’s shoulder.
Cold.
Too cold.
I flinched—but forced myself to continue.
And then…
I turned her around.
My scream tore through the room.
It wasn’t a woman.
Not really.
It was a mannequin.
A lifelike one.
Dressed in one of my old dresses.
Wearing a wig that looked eerily similar to my hair from years ago.
And in its stiff hands…
was my red pant.
My knees nearly gave out.
“What… what is this?” I whispered, my voice hollow.
Behind me, Victor didn’t answer immediately.
When he finally did… his words shattered everything I thought I knew.
“You weren’t supposed to find out like this…”
I turned to him, tears streaming down my face.
“Find out what, Victor?! That my husband has been hiding a… a doll in his room?! That he keeps my things like some kind of sick secret?!”
“No!” he snapped suddenly, then lowered his voice again. “No… it’s not like that…”
“Then what is it?!” I demanded.
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing like a man cornered by his own past.
“That… is you.”
I froze.
“…What?”
Victor swallowed hard.
“Not you now,” he said. “You… from eight years ago.”
My heart skipped.
“What are you talking about…?”
His eyes met mine—filled with something raw. Something broken.
“That red pant… you hid it the day before our wedding. You said it was for a ‘special memory.’ You thought I didn’t know… but I saw where you kept it.”
A chill ran down my spine.
“How do you know that…?”
“Because,” he said softly, “that was the last day you were… you.”
The room felt like it was spinning.
“What are you saying…?” I whispered.
Victor took a step closer.
“Faith… don’t you remember the accident?”
My breath caught.
Accident…?
Fragments.
Flashes.
A road.
Rain.
A scream.
And then—
Darkness.
I staggered backward.
“No… no, that doesn’t make sense… I’ve been here… I’ve been with you… our son—”
“Yes,” Victor cut in, his voice trembling. “But not in the way you think.”
Tears rolled down his face now.
“The real Faith… my Faith… she didn’t make it that night.”
Silence.
Deafening.
Impossible.
“So… who am I?” I asked, barely audible.
Victor looked at me like a man losing everything all over again.
“You’re… what I couldn’t let go of.”
My chest tightened.
“I couldn’t accept it,” he continued. “I couldn’t accept losing you. So I… I held onto everything. Your voice messages. Your videos. Your habits. Every little detail.”
His voice cracked.
“And then… one day… you were just… there again.”
My blood ran cold.
“I thought it was a miracle,” he whispered. “But over time… I realized…”
He looked at me—fear creeping into his eyes.
“…you don’t remember dying.”
The room fell into a terrifying stillness.
And suddenly…
I wasn’t sure if I was the one discovering the truth—
or the one who had been hiding from it all along.