Fallen Blossoms, Separate Lives
1.3k Views · Ongoing · Hachimitsu
On our wedding day, my fiancé died in a terrible car accident on his way to pick me up.
I was left a widow, carrying a child who would never know its father.
The shock left me severely depressed. I wanted to end my life more times than I could count. Everyone told me to keep going for the baby.
On the day of his funeral, his older brother returned from Africa with his wife to pay their respects.
He looked so much like the man I'd lost that I kept forgetting myself when I saw him.
Then I happened to overhear them talking in his mother's bedroom.
“You faked your death to get out of your wedding for that Black woman? Claire is carrying your baby. You went through all this just to bring that dark-skinned tramp home?”
For a long time, there was no answer. Then the man I knew as my brother-in-law spoke quietly.
“Vivian is dying. Her doctors say she has six months at most. When that's over, Claire will be nearly ready to give birth. Everything will go back to the way it was. We'll be a happy family of three.”
Only then did I understand. My husband had never died. This supposed older brother was Ethan Hale himself.
Struggling to control my shaking hands, I sent a message to my brother, who worked in intelligence overseas.
“Help me stage an accident. If Ethan can fake his death, so can I. I want him to feel exactly what he put me through.”
I was left a widow, carrying a child who would never know its father.
The shock left me severely depressed. I wanted to end my life more times than I could count. Everyone told me to keep going for the baby.
On the day of his funeral, his older brother returned from Africa with his wife to pay their respects.
He looked so much like the man I'd lost that I kept forgetting myself when I saw him.
Then I happened to overhear them talking in his mother's bedroom.
“You faked your death to get out of your wedding for that Black woman? Claire is carrying your baby. You went through all this just to bring that dark-skinned tramp home?”
For a long time, there was no answer. Then the man I knew as my brother-in-law spoke quietly.
“Vivian is dying. Her doctors say she has six months at most. When that's over, Claire will be nearly ready to give birth. Everything will go back to the way it was. We'll be a happy family of three.”
Only then did I understand. My husband had never died. This supposed older brother was Ethan Hale himself.
Struggling to control my shaking hands, I sent a message to my brother, who worked in intelligence overseas.
“Help me stage an accident. If Ethan can fake his death, so can I. I want him to feel exactly what he put me through.”










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