Chapter 1

Five years after my firefighter husband died saving me, I walk into his baby's 100-day party , and he's not dead. I am.

Eason freezes mid-laugh, his hand still on the baby's cheek. He sees me. And behind him, all our old friends — the ones who cried with me, who told me to move on — they step in front of him like a wall.

"Jenna, don't. He had a reason for faking his death."

I look at these people. These perfect actors. And my voice comes out calm.

"The three times I swallowed sleeping pills out of guilt and had my stomach pumped... you were all laughing at me, weren't you？"

No one says a word. No one looks at me.

Then Charlotte , his childhood best friend, the one holding the baby — starts crying. Her body's still soft from birth.

"I'm sorry, Jenna. The baby needs his dad. Please don't take him away. I just love him too much."

I should scream. Throw things. Lose my mind.

But I feel nothing.

Five years of guilt, of grief, of thinking I killed the man I loved , it all just died. Right here. Right now.

Behind Charlotte, a big screen plays their photos. Pregnancy. Birth. First cry. This party.

And one photo on top.Charlotte in a loose maternity dress. Ethan on his knees, ear to her belly. The caption: Finally.

I stare at the timestamp.July 23, 2019.

Seven days after the fire. Seven days after they told me he was gone.

After the official report said I caused his death. After the headlines called me the wife who killed a hero. After his parents screamed at me , Why aren't you dead?

After my own mom whispered, Maybe don't come home for a while. The neighbors talk.

So I took the pills.The first time, the landlord found me. Nurses whispered while they pumped my stomach — That's her. The one who got her husband killed.No one ever asked why I ran into that fire.

I got a call that night. Unknown number. A man's voice said Ethan was trapped in an old warehouse. I heard Ethan groan in the background.

So I ran in.I saw him. I pulled at him. Then a beam collapsed.

He pushed me away. Shoved me. And then the fire took him.

No body. Nothing.

For five years, I believed it was my fault.

But while I was crying over a grave that didn't exist, Ethan was right here. Watching Charlotte's belly grow.

I grab a glass of champagne from a waiter and walk straight toward the main table.

Charlotte hugs the baby tighter. Ethan jumps up, blocking her.

"Jenna. Let me explain."

All those friends stand up too. Forming a wall.

"He had to disappear. Someone was after him."

"It was to protect you."

I laugh.Do they really think I'm going to throw champagne at a baby?

I sit down at an empty table nearby. Raise my glass to them.

"Your baby's beautiful. I mean it."Weirdly, I do.

Because Charlotte wasn't just his childhood friend. She was my only friend in this city.