Part 2: The Wife Who Was Never Buried
A woman from a nearby café brought a blanket. Someone called for medical help. Logan lifted Mira carefully and felt how light she was, like he was holding what remained of a life someone had tried to erase.
At the hospital, doctors rushed her into a room.
Eli sat outside, clutching his backpack straps and staring at the door.
Hours later, a doctor came out.
“She’s stable. Weak, dehydrated, and exhausted, but awake.”
Logan swallowed hard.
“Can I see her?”
The doctor nodded.
When Logan entered, Mira lay in a white hospital bed, staring out the window like someone who had returned from a place no one should survive.
“Logan,” she whispered.
He stood beside the bed, unable to touch her.
“I buried you.”
Mira closed her eyes.
“No,” she said quietly. “You buried my sister.”
Logan stopped breathing.
Her twin sister, Nora.
The sister who always needed money, help, forgiveness, or rescue. The sister Mira had protected too many times.
“What are you talking about?” Logan asked.
Mira looked at him with pain in her eyes.
“Nora came to me that night. She was scared. She said someone was following her.”
“Who?”
Mira gripped the sheet.
Then she said the name that turned Logan’s grief into something cold.
“Derek Vale.”
His business partner.
His closest friend.
May you like
The man who sat in the front row at Mira’s memorial.
The man who hugged Eli and said, “Your mom will always watch over you.”
