BILLIONAIRE'S DEAD WIFE RETURNS

Kyla. 

I stare at the word on the test again just to be sure. Pregnant. Clear as daylight. My hands are trembling, and my eyes are wet with disbelief, my breath caught between a laugh and a sob.

"I'm pregnant," I whisper to myself, almost afraid to say it aloud, afraid the universe might hear and take it back.

A fresh wave of emotion crashes over me, and I clutch the test against my chest, shutting my eyes. Jake and I have been trying for two years. Two long, exhausting, heart wrenching years of negative tests, hormone treatments, late night tears, and silent prayers whispered in the dark when he couldn't hear me crying. And now, it was finally happening. I was going to be a mommy. 

I scramble for my phone, my fingers still trembling as I open our text thread. 

Kyla: Baby come home early if you can. I have something to tell you. It’s good news. Really good, see you soon. 

I stare at the message, considering adding more. Should I just tell him now? No. I want to see his face. I want to feel his arms wrap around me the second I say the words. I want the moment to be real, not through a screen.

I glance at the clock, 4:12 p.m. He usually gets home around 6, but sometimes he finishes earlier. Maybe I’ll beat him to it if I hurry. I want to surprise him. I want to be the one who brings the light into our home today.

I throw on my coat, shoving the test stick carefully into the zip pocket, like it’s some precious artifact. My whole body is buzzing. My heart flutters like a trapped bird in my chest, not from fear this time, but from hope. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this kind of hope.

On the drive home, I rehearse it over and over.

"Jake, I have something to show you."

Or maybe: "So, do you remember our New Year's resolution?"

Or maybe I’ll just hold his hand, press the test into his palm, and let him read it himself. I can already picture it, his eyes widening, then softening. His lips parting, trembling, the way they do when he’s overwhelmed with emotion. And then he’ll pull me in, kiss me, hold me like I’m carrying the whole world. Because I will be carrying our world.

I get home in record time. The late afternoon sun slants across the driveway, casting golden shadows. Everything feels bathed in warmth. I half expect birds to burst into song like some cheesy movie, but the only sound is the hum of the neighbor’s lawn mower down the street. Still, everything feels alive in a way it hasn’t in a long time.

I park the car, practically skipping to the front door unable to hold my excitement. 

"Jake?" I call as I enter the house, already smiling. "Baby, are you home?"

Silence answers me. That’s fine. Maybe he’s upstairs napping or still on his way. I kick off my shoes, drop my bag, and glance at the coffee table. His keys aren’t there. His coat isn’t on the hook either. Hmm.

I check my phone again.

No response yet.

I exhale slowly and make my way to the kitchen, suddenly aware of how empty the house feels. No clatter of dishes, no hum of the TV in the background, no scent of his cologne hanging in the air like it usually does when he walks in.

I try not to let the silence press too hard against me. I’m too happy to be paranoid today.

I pour a glass of water, sipping it slowly, reminding myself to stay calm. Excited, yes, but calm. I need to remember this moment. The moment before he knows there is an addition member to our family. When everything is still a secret between me and the tiny soul blooming quietly inside me.

I take the test out of my pocket again, holding it like it's sacred. My heart swells.

This is it.

This is the beginning of everything. 

I glance at the clock again, it's 5:41.

Maybe I should change into something nice. Make it special. A soft dress, something flowy. Maybe light some candles, cook his favorite no. I want to see his real time reaction, not delay it with theatrics.

I place the test gently on the kitchen counter and walk to the living room, my eyes flicking to the window every few seconds. Still no sign of his car.

Where is he?

I pick up my phone again, typing quickly.

Kyla: Almost home? I’m waiting… Can’t wait to see your face.

No reply.

A weird knot forms in my stomach. But I shake it off. Maybe he’s in a meeting. Maybe his phone is dead. Or maybe he wants to surprise me by walking through the door instead of texting back.

But it’s not like Jake not to answer. Especially after a message like that.

The house is unusually still. I didn’t even realize how loud the silence could be until now. I move back toward the entryway, peeking out the window again. No car. Just our empty driveway, the street calm and quiet.

I chew my lip, indecision bubbling in my chest.

And then something strange settles over me. A sharp whisper of intuition. Goosebumps prickle across my arms. It feels… off. Like something shifted while I wasn’t looking.

I inch toward the stairs.

Maybe he’s home and I just didn’t notice. Maybe he came in through the back door and is in the bedroom napping. That wouldn’t be totally out of the ordinary. Right?

But then why didn’t he answer me?

"Jake?" I call again, softer this time, my voice climbing the stairs before my feet do. No response.

Stillness.

I place my hand on the railing, slowly ascending, step by cautious step. The house creaks faintly beneath me, like it’s holding its breath.

Each step I take seems louder than the last.

My heart thuds with a new kind of tension not fear exactly, but unease. My fingers tighten around the wooden banister as I reach the landing. The hallway is dim, shadows stretching across the floor, the bedroom door half-closed.

"Jake?" I whisper, my voice barely a breath now.

I walk towards the bedroom, my pulse quickening with each step, a strange chill coiling around my spine.

Something isn't right.