Five years into our marriage, my husband died of a sudden asthma attack, leaving me and our son alone. Friends said it was a tragedy I was widowed so young. My parents urged me to remarry, to find a father for my son. I refused. I was determined to honor my husband's memory. But on the third anniversary of his death, I overheard my father-in-law angrily questioning my brother-in-law: "It was your brother who had asthma. It was your brother who died. You faked your death to take care of his wife and child. Was it worth it?" "For three years, Lily has been a widow, raising Leo alone. You gave your niece a home, but did you ever think that from the day you 'died,' Leo lost his father, too?" In that moment, my blood ran cold. I realized that the man who died three years ago wasn't my husband, Mark. It was his twin brother, Matt. My three years of mourning were a joke. That night, I called my parents: "Mom, Dad, I agree to remarry!" Chapter 1 After my husband died of a sudden asthma attack, my in-laws were too guilt-ridden to look me in the eye. They were overly solicitous, terrified I wouldn't be able to handle widowhood and would remarry, taking their grandson with me and ending their family line. My parents, on the other hand, constantly urged me to remarry. They said I couldn't be a widow forever and offered to set me up. I was stubborn as a mule. I refused, determined to honor my husband's memory. I even comforted my in-laws, telling them not to worry. I wouldn't let my son call another man "Dad." For three years, no matter how hard or exhausting life was without my husband, I gritted my teeth and persevered. But on the third anniversary of his death, everything changed. I accidentally overheard my father-in-law berating my brother-in-law in the study. "Mark," he hissed, "your brother was the one with asthma since birth. He's the one who's gone. Why did you have to stage your own death and take his identity?" Mark? That was my husband's name. What did he mean, "stage his own death"? I froze, unable to process what I was hearing. The next second, a man's voice rang out. "Dad, Lily was pregnant. How could she have handled the shock? As for my wife, Sarah, I gave her a son. She won't be childless in her old age. That's enough." "From that day on, I decided to take my brother's place and care for his wife. As for the identity of Mark? Let it stay buried." I couldn't listen to any more. My limbs went cold, and my head buzzed like it had been pierced by needles. So, the man who died wasn't my husband. It was his twin brother. And my husband, the man who should have been closest to me, faked his death and abandoned me and our son to raise another woman's child. Tears finally, uselessly, flooded my eyes. Mark had saved me from a dark place. Even after I was kidnapped and my reputation was ruined, he didn't reject me. Instead, he knelt on the spot and proposed, swearing to be good to me forever. After we married, he was devoted. He never let me suffer a single grievance. Everyone said the Peterson family had produced a great lover, and I became the envy of every woman in town. That's why, when he died, I decided to honor him, even remain a widow. But now, thinking back, I felt pitifully stupid. Mark had always been healthy. He'd never even had a cold. How could he have died of asthma? It was all an act. He'd been pretending for three years, all to take care of the "one who got away." What about me and our son? What were we to him? I desperately covered my mouth to keep from making a sound and fled in disgrace. Chapter 2 Back in my room, my son woke up, rubbing his eyes at the noise. Looking at his small face, so like Mark's it was as if it had been carved from the same mold, my heart twisted. How could Mark, as a father, bear to let his young son grow up without a dad? Seeing my unconcealed sadness, my son's face filled with concern. "Mommy, is Daddy pretending not to know you again?" My heart shook. I suddenly remembered that after Mark appeared as his brother, Matt, my son had continued to call him "Daddy." At the time, I had always stopped him, telling him it wasn't Daddy, it was Uncle Matt. I thought my son missed his father too much and couldn't tell his identical twin uncle apart. I never imagined I was so wrong. A child's eyes are always clear. He had always recognized his own father, but he didn't understand why, overnight, his father wouldn't acknowledge him. No wonder. No wonder "Matt" was so good to me and my son. He always bought a gift for my son whenever he bought something. He asked after his well-being, periodically brought meat and vegetables, and secretly gave us money. Yet, he was strict only when my son called him "Daddy," always quickly interrupting and correcting him. Others said that as an uncle, he was impeccable. Even a biological father could rarely do so much. Before I knew the truth, I had been grateful to this brother-in-law, keeping his kindness in my heart, always thinking I would repay him someday. But now that I knew the truth, it was all so ironic. He was my son's biological father. Wasn't it his duty to be good to him? Didn't he feel guilty doing these things? I couldn't hide the bitterness rising inside me. I had never felt so clearly that the Mark I knew was dead. He had buried himself with his own hands. I had mourned him for three years. This relationship was over. After calming down, I looked at my son seriously and asked if he would be willing if Mommy remarried and found him a new daddy. "Mommy, I don't know why Daddy won't acknowledge me, but since you don't want him anymore, I don't want him either. Wherever you go, Leo will go. If Daddy won't protect you, Leo will!" Sensing my grief, Leo hugged me, his small hand patting my back comfortingly. In that instant, tears burst from my reddened eyes. "Okay!" I hugged my son tightly, then called my parents. The call connected, but before I could say anything, my parents' usual well-meaning advice washed over me: "Sarah, since Mark died, John has proposed to us dozens of times. You've known each other since you were kids, you know everything about him. And he's a Captain now. Why are you so stubborn? Why won't you agree to remarry..." I cut them off. "Mom, Dad, I've thought it through. I agree to remarry." There was five seconds of silence on the other end, followed by a wave of wild joy and disbelief. "Really? That's wonderful! It's good you've thought it through. We'll contact him immediately and start preparing the wedding! Don't worry, John has promised us many times. After you marry him, he'll treat Leo like his own son. As for you, just go and enjoy your life." Through the phone, I could feel my parents' excitement. They had worried about me so much these past three years, but because of Mark, I had disappointed them every time. Not anymore. Chapter 3 The next morning, I took my son downstairs for breakfast. At the table, Mark was attentive, serving his sister-in-law and niece, busy as a bee. To anyone watching, they looked like a happy family of three. Before I knew the truth, I had envied the cherished sister-in-law countless times, fantasizing that if Mark hadn't died, he would have treated me this well, too. But now, watching this scene, I only felt a profound sense of irony. My eyes burned, but I forced myself not to cry. There was no one left to wipe my tears. Mark noticed my pale face from the corner of his eye and actively put a piece of meat in both my bowl and my son's. "Sister-in-law, eat up. Mark is gone. Even if not for yourself, you have to think of your nephew." His tone was natural, a normal concern from a brother-in-law, as if the Mark who died wasn't him. "Uncle Matt, I'll serve Mommy!" But in the next moment, my son raised his chopsticks, put a piece of meat in my bowl, and responded sensibly to Mark. Hearing this, Mark's face changed abruptly. He even accidentally knocked over his bowl and chopsticks. Because this was the first time my son had called him "Uncle Matt." Before, no matter how he corrected him, my son had never called him uncle. He had always called him Daddy. But today, the words "Uncle Matt" were like a thunderclap exploding in his brain. "Leo, you... you used to always mistake Uncle Matt for your daddy. Why did you change today?" He looked at my son, steadying himself before speaking. My son smiled at him. "Uncle Matt, I was little before, so I always mistook you for Daddy. Now I'm older. I know my daddy died three years ago. Don't worry, I'll never call you wrong again!" Hearing this, Mark was dumbfounded. He couldn't say a word in rebuttal. Finally, he could only force a calm laugh. "Is that so? That's good." But his eyes kept darting between my son and me, as if trying to capture a clue from our faces. He held his chopsticks for a long time without eating a bite. My son and I didn't give him a single glance. We just buried our heads and ate our food. This made Mark even more restless. He kept glancing at us, and finally, he tentatively spoke. "Although I'm not Leo's dad, Leo is no different from my own son. Don't be so distant in the future. We're all family." "If you have any difficulties in the future, just ask me for help. Don't always carry it alone." I forced a bitter smile. Was he regretting it because his son no longer called him Daddy? But he was the one who chose to fake his death and abandon his son. I put down my chopsticks and, taking my son who had finished eating, stood up directly. Before leaving, I didn't thank him for taking care of my son as I used to. Instead, I stared straight into Mark's astonished eyes and left one sentence. "Big Brother is right. No matter how close we are, you're not Leo's biological father after all. We, mother and son, can live our lives well on our own." Chapter 4 Early the next morning, I went to the department store. I bought the milk candy and pastries my son had wanted to eat for a long time. Finally, I walked to the wedding section and pointed at a beautiful red dress, asking the clerk to take it down for me to try on. Coming out of the fitting room, looking at my reflection that seemed several years younger, I was stunned. The clerk looked at me and praised enthusiastically, "Getting ready for your wedding, right? Red is the most festive! So many people come to me to buy clothes, but you're the first one to wear this dress so beautifully." But I silently took off the dress and pointed to another one that was more elegantly colored, asking the clerk to wrap it up for me. Because people who are widowed cannot wear red when they remarry. When I walked out of the department store carrying bags full of things, I ran right into Mark, who was shopping with his sister-in-law. He was stunned when he saw me, then greeted me unnaturally. "Sister-in-law, why are you suddenly out shopping?" Since his fake death, I had stayed indoors, never having the leisure to go shopping. Seeing me buy so many things suddenly surprised him. I didn't want to get entangled with him, so I made up an excuse to put him off. But when we passed each other, he saw the wedding dress peeking out of my bag. His face suddenly became solemn. When we got married, we also bought our wedding supplies here. Only the dress back then was red. Now, the dress in my bag was a plain color. But why would a widow like me buy a wedding dress? He stood frozen on the spot for so long that his sister-in-law next to him noticed something was wrong.
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