The Death He Never Died

"Noelle, you've got to stay strong, okay? Brandon may be gone, but you still have me, your bestie. I'm here for you, always."

Melissa Simmons clung to me, chattering away since the moment I showed up at the hospital.

Glancing down at my hands and feet, it hit me—I had been given a second chance, sent back to the very day my husband Brandon Scott had died.

In my previous life, I was at work when I got the news of Brandon's stroke. By the time I made it to the hospital, he was already gone.

Weeks of relentless work and heartache had taken their toll. I collapsed, coughing up blood. From that day forward, I was bedridden with a severe illness.

To make matters worse, my mother-in-law kept my condition a secret from my parents and took me in, only to let the illness run its course without treatment.

As I lay dying, a news flash on the TV announced the winner of a 15 million-dollar lottery jackpot—it was my late husband.

There, right beside my husband Brandon in the photo, was my so-called best friend, Melissa.

…

Snapping out of it, I stared at Melissa's two-faced expression.

She must have known about the lottery win by then. They had probably plotted the whole thing, faking his death to pocket the cash.

"Noelle, don't take it so hard. You're already unwell. What if Brandon's death makes you worse?"

I shrugged off Melissa's hand and asked with eerie calm, "Where's Brandon's body? I want to see him."

Melissa blinked, thrown off by my composure. "In the ward," she stammered.

I stepped into the ward, where Brandon lay under a stark white sheet.

Melissa moved to block me, murmuring some excuse about sparing me the pain. However, I was not having any of it.

I gently nudged Melissa to the side and drew back the sheet from Brandon's body. There he was, lying on the hospital bed, his cheeks flushed and his face peaceful—hardly the image of a dead man.

I shook him and called his name, but he would not stir. Something was off. Without hesitation, I dialed the crematorium. "Hello. My husband has passed, and I need to arrange for his cremation immediately."

Melissa's eyes widened in alarm. "Isn't it too early to send him off?"

I shot her a steely glance. "He's gone. Why keep him here? It's just painful for the rest of us."

"But Mrs. Scott hasn't had the chance to say her final goodbye to Brandon."

Melissa was beside herself, worried I would whisk Brandon away before his mother could see him. "Look, his mom isn't well. Seeing him like this could break her. Let's just get the cremation over with."

She bit her lip and scurried off to call Brandon's mother.

I could not help but smirk, wondering how they would try to thwart my plans.

'You enjoy playing dead, Brandon? Fine, I'll play along and send you straight to hell,' I mused.

As the crematorium van pulled up, Brandon's mother arrived, just in time to see the workers lifting her son's body.

"You witch! The Scott family's luck turned sour the day we welcomed you. You've taken my son from me, and now you won't even let me see him one last time?"

She was on the warpath the moment she got there.

"Rushing to cremate my son—what, can't wait to run off to your lover? Our family's been disgraced by a hussy like you, a woman without shame. Why don't you go join my son in death?!"