Chapter 2 - “NOT AGAIN”
Vanessa had been preparing Ethan for this moment for twenty-three days.
He just didn’t know it.
The first conversation happened while he was in Chicago.
“Noah had another rough night.”
Ethan had been reviewing contracts in a hotel room.
“What happened?”
“He said he thought he heard Claire singing.”
Ethan had closed his laptop.
“What did you say?”
“That missing someone can make memories feel real.”
Reasonable.
Compassionate.
Exactly what a grief counselor might say.
The second time Vanessa called from the car.
“Noah told his teacher Claire might come home.”
Ethan sighed.
“Did the teacher call?”
“No. He told me.”
“Should we restart therapy?”
“I think so.”
Again—
reasonable.
By the third week, Vanessa had given Ethan an invisible framework.
Noah was grieving.
Noah was imagining.
Noah was confusing longing with reality.
So when Ethan came home and his son said:
My mom is still alive.
He did not hear evidence.
He heard symptom.
That was what Vanessa had built.
After Noah went upstairs, Ethan stood in the living room facing his wife.
The aquarium bubbled behind them.
He looked at the water.
Then at Vanessa.
“Why is his sweater wet?”
“He leaned too close to the tank.”
“His face?”
“He slipped.”
“He says you pushed him.”
Vanessa’s eyes filled again.
“I know.”
“You know?”
“He said it immediately afterward.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“You were flying.”
“My flight landed three hours ago.”
“I didn’t know you were coming home.”
Ethan stared.
Vanessa stepped closer.
“He’s testing me.”
“He’s seven.”
“Yes.”
Her voice remained patient.
“That doesn’t mean he can’t be angry.”
Ethan rubbed his forehead.
“Tell me about the call.”
“What call?”
“The one he says he heard.”
Vanessa gave a tired laugh.
“Ethan.”
“Answer.”
She studied him.
Something in his tone was different.
“There’s a woman who has been contacting me.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What woman?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then how did she get your number?”
“I assume online.”
“What does she want?”
Vanessa hesitated just enough to look reluctant rather than afraid.
“She says she knew Claire.”
Ethan went still.
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t want to upset you.”
His jaw tightened.
“What’s her name?”
“She hasn’t given me one I can verify.”
“What has she said?”
“Mostly nonsense.”
“Like?”
Vanessa looked toward the staircase.
“She talks like she knew things about Claire.”
“What things?”
“Stories.”
“Details?”
“Yes.”
Ethan’s pulse changed.
“Why would Noah think she was Claire?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“Because she sounds a little like her.”
The room became smaller.
“A little?”
“Enough that if a child desperately wanted to believe…”
She stopped.
Ethan stared at her phone.
“Show me.”
Vanessa did not hand it over.
Not immediately.
That mattered.
Then she unlocked it.
“Here.”
She showed him three text messages.
Unknown number.
You cannot keep doing this.
I need to know if he’s okay.
Please answer me.
Ethan read them twice.
“What does ‘he’ mean?”
“I assumed Noah.”
“Why?”
“Because she keeps talking about Claire.”
“And where are the calls?”
“I blocked the number.”
“So?”
“I deleted them.”
Ethan looked up.
“Why?”
“Because they were upsetting.”
“Vanessa, somebody is calling you pretending to be my dead wife, and you deleted the call history?”
She recoiled.
“When you say it like that—”
“How should I say it?”
Her tears returned.
“I was protecting you.”
That sentence had worked before.
Ethan usually heard care.
Tonight he heard concealment.
“What time did she call last night?”
“Eleven forty-seven.”
The answer came instantly.
Too instantly.
Ethan stared.
Vanessa realized.
She tried to soften it.
“I looked at the clock because it woke me.”
“But you deleted the call.”
“Yes.”
“And remembered the exact minute.”
“Because it scared me.”
Possible.
Still possible.
Ethan hated that.
Suspicion would have been easier if everything Vanessa said were obviously false.
Instead, most of it was plausible.
That was how control survived.
Not through ridiculous lies.
Through explanations that required only a little trust.
From upstairs, a floorboard creaked.
Ethan looked up.
Noah was listening.
“Go to bed, buddy.”
Noah appeared at the railing.
“I know what she said.”
Vanessa went pale.
Ethan looked at his son.
“What?”
Noah gripped the railing.
“The lady.”
Vanessa whispered:
“Ethan, don’t.”
But Ethan was no longer looking at her.
“What did she say?”
Noah swallowed.
“She called Vanessa…”
He struggled with the memory.
Then:
“Nessa.”
Ethan stopped breathing.
Vanessa’s face lost color.
Because Ethan had not heard that name in fourteen years.
May you like
But Claire used to say it constantly.
---
