THE WIDOW REGISTRY

Chapter 2: Someone Else Received One

Mara spent the rest of the afternoon staring at the card.

She turned it over three times.

Nothing.

No address.

No signature.

No explanation.

Just those words.

You're not the only one left behind.

By closing time, she had convinced herself there had to be a reasonable explanation.

Someone was playing a cruel joke.

Maybe Lily had arranged it.

No.

Never Lily.

Her daughter hated surprises and cried whenever movies killed dogs. She wasn't capable of something this heartless.

So who?

Sandra poked her head into the office.

"You look pale."

"I'm fine."

"That's librarian language for 'leave me alone before I start throwing dictionaries.'"

Despite herself, Mara smiled.

Sandra entered anyway and dropped a sandwich onto the desk.

"You skipped lunch again."

"I'm not hungry."

"Then eat out of spite."

Mara laughed softly.

Sandra had worked beside her for eight years. She had attended Daniel's funeral. She had brought food when Mara couldn't remember how to cook. She had quietly sat beside her during the first Christmas without him.

She was one of the few people who never demanded healing.

Sandra noticed the card immediately.

"What's that?"

Instinctively, Mara covered it.

"Nothing."

Sandra raised an eyebrow.

"Now I know it's something."

Mara hesitated.

Then, without understanding why, she handed over the card.

Sandra read it.

Her smile disappeared.

"Who sent this?"

"I don't know."

"And that's Daniel's handwriting?"

Mara swallowed.

"I think so."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

Sandra slowly placed the card down.

"That's impossible."

"I know."

"Do you want me to call the police?"

"And tell them what? Someone sent me a creepy card?"

Sandra crossed her arms.

"I hate creepy cards."

Mara almost smiled again.

Almost.

But the fear remained.

Because Sandra had confirmed what Mara secretly feared.

It really looked like Daniel's handwriting.

Not similar.

Not close.

Exactly.

That night, she drove home with the radio off.

The silence felt heavy.

As she stopped at a traffic light, her eyes drifted to the empty passenger seat.

Three years later, she still expected Daniel to be there.

Still imagined him complaining about terrible drivers.

Still heard his laugh in memories that arrived without warning.

The light turned green.

She didn't move.

A car behind her honked.

Mara blinked and drove on.

By the time she reached home, the kitchen smelled like burned garlic.

"Mama!"

Lily rushed out looking horrified.

"I got distracted."

Smoke filled the room.

Mara burst out laughing.

Actual laughter.

Lily groaned.

"Don't laugh! Dinner died for our sins."

"Order pizza."

"Already did."

They spent the evening eating greasy pepperoni pizza straight from the box while watching an old comedy Daniel used to love.

Halfway through the movie, Lily fell asleep on the couch.

Mara covered her daughter with a blanket.

For a moment, she simply stood there.

Seventeen years old.

When had she grown up?

When had the little girl who needed bedtime stories become the person taking care of her mother?

The thought hurt.

Quietly, Mara walked into her bedroom.

Daniel's photograph sat beside the lamp.

As always.

She picked it up.

"You'd laugh at the burned pasta," she whispered.

Silence answered.

She smiled sadly.

"I know. I'm talking to a picture again."

Then she noticed something beneath the frame.

A folded paper.

Her heartbeat stopped.

Slowly, she reached for it.

She had cleaned this room yesterday.

The paper hadn't been there.

Hands shaking, she unfolded it.

One sentence.

Typed this time.

Tomorrow. Seven p.m. Attend the meeting.

At the bottom—

another death date.

Not Daniel's.

A completely different date.

Mara frowned.

Whoever sent this had made a mistake.

Until she turned the paper over.

And discovered a name.

EMILY MERCER

She didn't recognize the woman.

But beneath the name was one chilling sentence.

Someone else received a card too.