When I suggested she move her celebration to another date, she refused. I sighed and said, “Come on, he’s only getting married once — you’ll have a birthday every year.” She just smiled quietly.
That evening, while I was at the wedding reception, a message from an unknown number flashed on my phone. The words froze me in place: “Your wife is dead.”
My heart stopped. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. I slipped out of the hall without saying a word, hands shaking as I called her again and again — but every call went straight to voicemail. My mind spiraled with panic and regret. I shouldn’t have left her. What if something really happened?
When I finally pulled up to our house, there were cars parked outside and lights glowing through the windows. I rushed in — and was met with a deafening shout of “Surprise!”
There she was, standing in the …
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