Substitute Wife's Tragedy

My wife's lifeless body ended up being the birthday gift for my childhood friend.

When we were younger, a lapse on my part drove us apart for years. But when we reconnected, seeing my childhood friend's face—the uncanny resemblance to my wife's hit me like a revelation. The man I believed loved me was in fact captivated only by the face I wore.

For my friend’s first birthday back, my husband stood before me, his expression cold. "Alani says she's lonely and wants you to keep her company. You ought to," he commanded.

Alani broke my hand, and as I lay on the floor in pain, weeping, he coldly remarked, "A broken hand isn't the end of the world, as long as Alani's pleased."

When Alani slashed my face, my husband merely furrowed his brow. "Looks like Alani's still holding a grudge against me for finding a stand-in," he said.

When Alani tucked me into a gift box as her own birthday present, Elijah just gazed at her indulgently. "If it makes Alani happy, it is her birthday, after all."

He didn't realize that inside that box, I was already dead.

---

Elijah sat behind his large office desk, eyeing his assistant. "Where’s Thea? Still no contact?"

"Tonight’s Alani’s birthday party. What's the issue now?" At this, Griffin hesitated, tension etched across his face. "Mr. Woods, your wife is still unreachable."

A flicker of concern crossed Elijah's face, swiftly concealed as if it had never emerged.

Clearing his throat, he shifted focus to a document in front of him. "She's being irrational. I’ve told her already, it’s my fault—I owe Alani."

"She's my wife, so what’s wrong with her spending time with Alani? Alani’s just kidding around with her, why such a fuss?"

Griffin frowned at Elijah's words. "But… I'm told she was really hurt."

"She called several times yesterday, asking for you to pick her up. She said… Miss Silva has lost it."

At the word "lost it," Elijah's face turned red with anger. "What do you mean lost it? Alani had a rough patch when she was lost. She's been through a lot!"

"Alani’s just in a delicate state. She needs support and companionship. What's Thea doing spreading such nonsense?"

"Severely injured? She’s just faking it, seeking sympathy. She’s always been good at that."

"Before, maybe, but now she's using tactics to vie for attention with Alani. It's pathetic!"

Elijah spat the words, his tone icy. Griffin’s lips twitched, as if to protest, but Elijah cut him off with a wave.

"Enough, it’s insufferable. Alani’s like this because of me. Thea is my wife; isn't it her responsibility to help me support Alani?"

"She never thinks about the strain I bear, only rivalry and arguments. I’ve completely misjudged her."

"Once Alani's birthday is over, I’ll sort this out!"

Just as Elijah was speaking, Alani walked into the office. Her head was slightly lowered, teeth sinking into her lower lip, with strands of hair framing her face. There was a hint of fear in her eyes, and indeed, she looked very fragile.

Seeing her like this, not only Elijah felt a pang of sympathy—even I, a departed soul, couldn't help but pity her.

Yes, I am dead now.

The instant my heart ceased its beating, my consciousness detached from my body. Viewing myself from an outsider's perspective, my limbs were grotesquely contorted, my skin marred with countless lash marks and burns. Even my eyes were open wide, presenting a gruesome spectacle.

But most horrifying was my face, crisscrossed with scars, some deep enough to expose the bone beneath. My face was entirely unrecognizable, stripped of all original semblance.

I was crammed into a tastefully decorated gift box in a disturbingly unnatural pose. Even though it was my own body, the scene was so terrifying that I could barely look. If I weren’t already dead, it might have scared me to death all over again.