“They’re complicated.”

I buried my husband without ever really understanding who he was.

After that, the house felt unbearable. Every corner reminded me of him. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stay.

So I left.

No plan. Just distance.

I bought a bus ticket to somewhere I had never been. It didn’t matter where—I just needed to get away from the silence, from the memories, from the version of my life that no longer existed.

For the first time in days, sitting by the window, I felt something close to relief.

Until the bus stopped.

Someone took the empty seat next to me.

At first, it was just a scent—familiar, impossible.

Then I turned.

It was him.

Alive.

Continued on the next page