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Sunday Lunch
publish date:
2026-10-15 03:39:45
Latest chapter
Reincarnated as My Husband's Buried Wife The Balcony
Gregory brought me to the townhouse three weeks into whatever this had become, and he looked almost boyish about it, proud in a way I hadn't seen since the day he'd signed the papers on our very first building together."Wait till you see this place," he said, keys already in hand. "I think you'll like it."He wasn't showing a woman an ordinary property. He was showing off something that belonged to him, something he'd apparently decided was worth sharing with someone he liked.I had to remind myself, hard, that this was exactly how he saw it now.The townhouse was his. The buildings we'd built together were his. The whole life I'd spent six years assembling, brick by brick and signature by signature, had quietly become the thing he got to walk a stranger through with a little private smile on his face.And I was the stranger he'd invited inside.I made sure none of that reached my face. Gregory needed to see Vivienne standing beside him, a woman who'd never once set foot in this hall
Reincarnated as My Husband's Buried Wife Mrs. P Again
Mrs. Pruitt brought in the coffee and nearly dropped the tray.I saw it happen before I understood why, the slight lurch of the cups rattling against their saucers as she stopped dead in the doorway, her eyes locking onto my face like she'd walked into a wall she hadn't seen coming.I knew her instantly.Older than I remembered, a little more stooped through the shoulders, but it was her, down to the particular way she carried a tray a half inch higher than necessary, like she'd learned a long time ago that confidence kept things from spilling.I'd seen her on the sidewalk outside the townhouse weeks ago, and I remembered exactly how badly I'd wanted to say something then, how hard it had been to stand in front of a woman who'd known me for years and let her walk right past me.Now she was standing six feet away with a coffee tray trembling slightly in her hands, and her face told me she remembered that sidewalk too.Neither of us moved for a second.She tightened her grip on the tray
Reincarnated as My Husband's Buried Wife Sunday Lunch
Beatrice Hale opened the door herself.I'd braced myself for a woman still grieving a daughter-in-law three years gone, someone who might not warm to a stranger just because her son brought her home. I hadn't braced myself for Beatrice to answer her own front door, silver hair pinned back, standing there in a cardigan the color of weak tea.She didn't smile right away.She looked at me instead, the way you look at something you're trying to decide the value of, taking her time about it, her eyes moving from my face down to my hands and back up again before she said a single word.I reminded myself, hard and fast, exactly who I was supposed to be. Not the woman who used to walk through this door without knocking. Not the woman who knew which cabinet held the good glasses without ever having to ask.A stranger. A guest. Someone who'd never stood in this hallway before in her life."Mom," Gregory said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "This is Vivienne.""Mrs. Hale," I said, offering my han
Reincarnated as My Husband's Buried Wife A Story for Vivienne
Gregory asked about my parents, and I lied without hesitation."So where'd you grow up?" he said, stirring his coffee like the question weighed nothing at all.It wasn't an ordinary question. Not for me.I'd spent six years being Adeline Cross, learning how to answer exactly that question for a dozen different dinner parties, a dozen different investors making small talk before the real conversation started. I had Vivienne's life too now, scraps of it pulled from an old journal I'd read late into the night, enough to build something that could survive a follow up.I had about half a second to decide which pieces belonged in the story."Ohio," I said. "Small town. One traffic light, if you can believe that.""One.""One. My mother taught piano out of our living room. My father left when I was seven, so it was mostly just us."It came out smooth. Too smooth. Smooth enough that some part of me sat back and listened to myself the way you'd listen to someone else lying convincingly, equal
Reincarnated as My Husband's Buried Wife Kern on Set
Tobias Kern ran the set like a man who thought the walls were on his side.I got there early, script pages rolled up in one hand, and found him already in the middle of it, pointing a PA toward the craft table, correcting a lighting angle nobody had asked him to weigh in on. People moved when he pointed. Nobody made him repeat himself twice.He cracked some joke about the catering, something about how nobody ever orders enough bagels for a film crew, and three people laughed before he'd even finished the sentence.I watched that a beat longer than I needed to.It wasn't the kind of laugh that comes easy. It was the kind that checks itself halfway through, glances sideways to make sure it landed right. One of the sound guys laughed a full second after everyone else, like he'd caught up late and was trying to cover for it.Nobody wanted to be the one who didn't laugh.I filed that away and went to find wardrobe.I had a job to do, a small, forgettable part in a short film that happened
Reincarnated as My Husband's Buried Wife The Handshake With the Past
Gregory walked me home after dinner, and when he took my hand, it fit into his like it had been waiting three years to come back.He offered so casually it barely registered as a question. "I'll walk you. It's a nice night."I weighed refusing for half a second and decided against it. Curiosity was the one thing I couldn't afford to hand him right now, and a woman who said no to a simple walk home after a good dinner would look exactly like a woman hiding something.So I said sure, and we started down the street together, the city quieter than it had been an hour earlier.He asked about the short film again, whether I thought it would actually get picked up anywhere, and I answered the way Vivienne would, easy and a little self deprecating, my voice staying relaxed even though nothing underneath it felt relaxed at all. From the outside we probably looked like exactly what we were supposed to look like. A man enjoying a woman's company. Nobody pass
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