A Stranger Wearing My Husband's Face
1996 Words
The rain refused to stop.
It drummed against the polished marble graves like a thousand tiny fingers, washing away fresh footprints as if the cemetery itself wanted to erase what had just happened.
Amara stood frozen.
Her heart pounded so violently she could barely hear anything else.
The man standing a few feet away...
The man looking at her with cold, unfamiliar eyes...
Was Damien.
Every line of his face was the same.
The small scar above his left eyebrow.
The way he tilted his head whenever he was confused.
Even the faint dimple that appeared whenever he pressed his lips together.
There was no mistake.
It was him.
Yet he looked at her as though they had never met.
As though she were a stranger.
"...I'm sorry," Damien said again, his voice calm but distant. "I really don't know who you are."
The words struck Amara harder than any slap.
She shook her head slowly.
"No..."
Her voice trembled.
"No, you're lying."
She stepped closer, ignoring the bodyguards.
"You can't forget me."
She lifted her trembling left hand.
"Do you remember this?"
She pulled off her wedding ring.
"You placed this ring on my finger."
Damien stared at it.
His expression didn't change.
"I've never seen that ring before."
Amara's breathing became uneven.
"No..."
"You chose it yourself."
"You said no diamond could ever be brighter than my smile."
She laughed softly through her tears.
"You remember saying that, don't you?"
Nothing.
Not even the slightest flicker.
The silence was unbearable.
Behind Damien, Isabella crossed her arms with an amused smile.
"This is embarrassing."
She looked Amara up and down as though she were examining something dirty.
"Some women really have no shame."
Amara ignored her.
Her eyes never left Damien.
"You promised me forever."
"We built a home together."
"You held me every night."
"You told me I'd never cry alone."
Her voice cracked.
"So why are you pretending?"
Damien rubbed his temple.
Something about her words made his chest tighten.
A strange pain settled behind his eyes.
For a split second...
He saw flashes.
A wedding aisle.
White roses.
Someone laughing.
A woman's hand slipping a ring onto his finger.
Then—
Everything disappeared.
He staggered slightly.
Isabella quickly held his arm.
"Damien?"
"Are you alright?"
He nodded, though he wasn't sure.
"I'm fine."
But he wasn't.
His heart was beating faster than it should.
And he didn't know why.
Ethan looked from his mother to Damien.
His little face was filled with confusion.
"Mummy..."
"Why is that uncle crying?"
Amara turned.
Only then did she notice the tears collecting in Damien's eyes.
He hadn't realised they were there either.
He quickly wiped them away.
"I..."
He frowned.
"I don't know."
He truly didn't.
How could a stranger make him cry?
One of the bodyguards stepped forward.
"Mr. Blackwood, we should leave."
Damien nodded.
"Yes."
He looked at Amara one last time.
"I'm sorry if someone hurt you."
"I hope you find the person you're looking for."
Those words broke something inside her.
She laughed.
It wasn't a happy laugh.
It was the sound of a heart refusing to believe reality.
"The person I'm looking for..."
She whispered.
"...is standing right in front of me."
Damien lowered his gaze.
For reasons he couldn't explain...
He couldn't bear to look into her eyes anymore.
He turned.
The bodyguards opened the SUV door.
Isabella smiled triumphantly before climbing inside beside him.
The convoy slowly drove away.
Amara stood in the middle of the rain.
Watching.
Unable to move.
Until the last vehicle disappeared through the cemetery gate.
Only then did her knees give way.
She collapsed onto the wet grass.
The bouquet of lilies scattered across the mud.
"Mummy!"
Ethan rushed to her.
Tiny hands tried to lift her.
"Mummy, don't cry."
"I don't like it when you cry."
Amara hugged him tightly.
She buried her face in his shoulder.
For six years...
She had dreamed about seeing Damien again.
She imagined tears.
She imagined joy.
She imagined him holding their son for the first time.
She had imagined everything...
Except this.
Across the city...
The convoy sped through the busy streets.
Inside the luxurious SUV, silence filled the cabin.
Damien stared out of the window.
Rainwater rolled down the glass.
Every passing reflection reminded him of the woman in the cemetery.
Who was she?
Why had she looked at him with so much pain?
And why...
Did his chest feel empty?
Isabella reached for his hand.
"You've been quiet."
"I'm thinking."
"About her?"
Damien didn't answer.
Isabella's smile faded.
"She's probably mentally unstable."
"There are people who become obsessed with wealthy men."
"You shouldn't let it bother you."
Still...
He remained silent.
The bodyguard driving glanced at Damien through the rear-view mirror.
"Sir."
Damien looked up.
"We've arrived."
The SUV entered the gates of an enormous mansion.
Iron gates taller than two men slowly closed behind them.
Damien stepped out.
But before entering the house...
He stopped.
His eyes fell on the massive fountain in the centre of the courtyard.
For a second...
He froze.
Another memory.
A woman running around the fountain, laughing.
A little boy chasing butterflies.
Someone calling his name.
"Damien!"
His breathing became heavy.
The memory vanished before he could see the woman's face.
"What is happening to me?"
he whispered.
Meanwhile...
Several kilometres away...
A black luxury sedan sat beneath an abandoned warehouse.
Inside, the mysterious hooded figure removed a leather glove.
A silver ring gleamed under the dim light.
Across the table sat an older man in an expensive grey suit.
His face remained hidden in shadow.
"So..."
the old man said calmly.
"They've finally met."
The hooded figure nodded.
"Exactly as you predicted."
"And?"
"His memories are beginning to return."
Silence.
The old man slowly poured himself a glass of whiskey.
His voice was cold.
"That cannot happen."
"It won't."
The hooded figure smiled.
"I still have control."
The old man leaned forward.
"Never underestimate love."
"You erased his memories."
"But you didn't erase his heart."
The hooded figure's smile disappeared.
"What do you want me to do?"
The old man's answer came without hesitation.
"Separate them."
"Immediately."
"And if that woman refuses to stay away..."
He lifted his glass.
"...finish what we started six years ago."
The hooded figure nodded once.
"I understand."
Outside...
Thunder shook the night sky.
Somewhere in the darkness...
A new hunt had already begun.
As Damien's buried memories begin to surface, a secret mastermind orders Amara's death before the truth can be uncovered. Will she realise she's now being hunted before it's too late?
The cemetery was almost empty.
The last visitors had gone home.
Only the sound of rain remained.
Amara sat on the damp grass, still holding Ethan against her chest.
She wasn't crying anymore.
The tears had stopped.
Not because the pain had disappeared...
But because it had become too deep for tears.
Ethan gently touched her face.
"Mummy?"
She looked down.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Was that really my daddy?"
The question pierced her heart.
She opened her mouth to answer, but no words came.
What could she tell a six-year-old boy?
That his father had died...
Only to return from the dead and deny knowing them?
She forced a smile.
"I... I don't know."
Ethan frowned.
"But you called him Daddy."
"I know."
"And he looks like me."
Amara nodded slowly.
"He does."
The little boy lowered his head.
"Why didn't he hug me?"
Silence.
Amara wrapped both arms around him.
"Maybe..."
She whispered.
"...maybe he couldn't remember."
Ethan looked up with innocent eyes.
"Then we'll help him remember."
Her heart shattered all over again.
If only it were that simple.
An elderly groundskeeper approached them, holding an old umbrella.
"I think you should leave now."
Amara wiped her face.
"I'm sorry."
The old man looked toward Damien's grave before speaking.
"I've worked in this cemetery for twenty-eight years."
"I've seen people cry."
"I've seen people scream."
"I've seen people refuse to bury their loved ones."
"But today..."
He paused.
"...I saw a dead man walk past his own grave."
Amara looked at him.
"So I'm not crazy?"
He shook his head.
"No."
"I saw him too."
Her pulse quickened.
"You recognised him?"
"Of course."
"I was here the day he was buried."
A chill ran down her spine.
"You remember?"
The old man nodded.
"I remember everything."
Before Amara could ask another question...
A black SUV slowly passed outside the cemetery gates.
Its tinted windows hid everyone inside.
The vehicle didn't stop.
But it slowed.
Watching.
Then drove away.
The groundskeeper frowned.
"Someone has been sitting out there for nearly an hour."
Amara instinctively held Ethan closer.
"Watching us?"
"I believe so."
A cold feeling settled in her stomach.
Across the city...
Damien stood alone in his study.
The mansion was silent.
A fire burned softly in the fireplace.
Yet he couldn't shake the image of the woman in the cemetery.
He loosened his tie.
Walked to the bar.
Poured himself a drink.
His hand stopped halfway to his lips.
Without warning...
A familiar scent drifted through his mind.
Vanilla.
Jasmine.
Rain.
A woman's perfume.
His fingers trembled.
"Who are you?"
He whispered to the empty room.
A knock came at the door.
"Come in."
His personal assistant entered carrying a tablet.
"Sir."
"You asked for today's schedule."
Damien nodded.
But instead of taking it, he asked,
"Run a search."
The assistant blinked.
"For what, sir?"
"The woman from the cemetery."
"The one who claimed to be my wife."
The assistant hesitated.
"Mr. Blackwood..."
"Ms. Isabella instructed us not to investigate."
Damien's eyes hardened.
"I didn't ask what Isabella instructed."
"I gave you an order."
"Find her."
"Everything."
"I want her name."
"Where she lives."
"And why does she believe she knows me."
"Immediately."
"Yes, sir."
The assistant left.
Damien turned back toward the window.
For the first time in years...
He felt as though someone had stolen a part of his life.
Elsewhere...
Inside a luxury penthouse...
Isabella stood on the balcony overlooking the city.
She held a glass of champagne in one hand...
A phone in the other.
"The meeting is over," she said quietly.
A man's voice answered.
"Did Damien recognize her?"
"No."
"But something happened."
"What?"
"He cried."
Silence.
Then...
"That's impossible."
"I saw it myself."
"He doesn't know why."
The man's tone became colder.
"Then the treatment is failing."
Isabella swallowed.
"What should we do?"
"Watch him closely."
"And the woman?"
"She should never meet him again."
The line disconnected.
Isabella lowered the phone.
For the first time...
Fear appeared on her face.
That evening...
Amara and Ethan finally returned to their small apartment.
The lights flickered.
The room was modest but neat.
A tiny dining table.
A worn sofa.
Family photographs lined one wall.
Most of them showed only Amara and Ethan.
One frame remained turned face down.
Ethan noticed.
"Mummy."
"Can I see Daddy's picture?"
Amara stared at the frame for several seconds.
Then picked it up.
She handed it to him.
Ethan smiled.
"It really is him."
He compared the photograph to the memory in his mind.
"The same eyes."
"The same smile."
He hugged the picture.
"When he remembers us..."
"I'm going to call him Daddy every day."
Amara smiled through fresh tears.
"I hope so."
A loud knock echoed through the apartment.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
She frowned.
"It's late."
"I'll get it."
She opened the door.
No one was there.
Only a small black envelope lay on the floor.
Her heartbeat quickened.
She picked it up.
Inside...
It was a single photograph.
It was taken earlier that day.
She and Ethan were standing beside Damien's grave.
Someone had secretly photographed them.
Her hands began to shake.
A folded note slipped from the envelope.
She opened it.
The words were typed in bold black letters.
STOP LOOKING FOR THE DEAD...
OR YOUR SON WILL JOIN THEM.
The blood drained from her face.
"Mummy?"
Ethan's voice trembled behind her.
- Writer
