In the late 70s, the news of the end of the draft came back to our small town, along with my husband’s ashes. Mayor Higgins found me. "Sarah, legally and morally, you should go back to the city and take that university offer." He sighed, feigning deep sorrow. "But your mother-in-law is all alone now. You have a responsibility to take care of her." In my past life, I thought about it, my heart bleeding with guilt, and I agreed. I stayed. I served my mother-in-law until her dying breath. Only then did I learn the truth: My husband, Jack, wasn't dead. He had simply faked his death to run off to the city, start a new life, and have children with the Mayor’s daughter. So, this time, when the ashes arrived, I went straight to the county clerk. I personally filed his death certificate and cancelled his Social Security Number. If you want to play dead, Jack, I’ll make sure you stay dead. Chapter 1 "How could this happen? He was fine when he left. I never thought that goodbye would be forever." I swayed on my feet, looking as though grief had sapped every ounce of my strength. Mayor Higgins sighed heavily, patting my shoulder. "Sarah, I know it's hard to accept. I watched Jack grow up. His accident... it breaks my heart too." "But you must be strong. The town will help with the arrangements." "I want to see him," I sobbed, clutching the Mayor’s sleeve. "Just one last look." The Mayor handed me the heavy urn, a single tear sliding down his cheek. "His body was badly damaged in the accident... he’s already been cremated. I’ve picked a prime plot in the cemetery. Let him rest in peace." Holding the urn, I wept uncontrollably. My mother-in-law, Mrs. Miller, beat her chest, wailing about her poor son’s fate, looking like she might faint at any moment. We held each other and cried until the initial storm of emotions passed. Mrs. Miller leaned on my shoulder, sniffing. "Sarah, with Jack gone, you don't need to worry about an old woman like me. You should go back to the city, enjoy your life. I can't be a burden to you!" "Sarah," the Mayor interjected smoothly, "while you have every right to go to college, Jack’s sudden passing leaves Mrs. Miller a widow with no son. You are her only family now. You should shoulder the responsibility." I lowered my head, wiping away tears, but inside, hatred boiled. It was the exact same script as my last life. Back then, I gave up my scholarship to stay in this dusty town. The neighbors praised me as a saint. Mrs. Miller used her "self-sacrificing" act to guilt-trip me into staying. I worked myself to the bone. I farmed their land, paid for Mrs. Miller’s endless medication, and even started a small fish farm to make ends meet. I ruined my health before I was thirty. And for what? When Mrs. Miller finally died of old age, a well-dressed Jack appeared at the door. Beside him stood Brenda, the Mayor’s daughter, and their two children. That’s when I learned the truth. Jack faked his death to be with Brenda. Brenda took my spot at the university. They lived a life of luxury while I rotted in the countryside. I died of a heart attack from the shock before I could even scream. In my past life, I spent every second building a life for others. Thank God for second chances. Seeing I was silent, Mrs. Miller started wailing again. The Mayor opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. "I understand. I can't leave Mom alone. Let's handle Jack's funeral first." They both nodded eagerly, rushing off to organize the wake. As soon as they left, I sprinted home, grabbed the family documents, and drove straight to the County Vital Records Office. "Officer, my husband passed away. I need to file the death certificate and notify the Social Security Administration immediately." When the stamped, official death certificate was in my hand, I finally smiled. You want to be dead, Jack? Fine. Now you’re a ghost in the system. Chapter 2 With the paperwork done, I returned to the house. Neighbors had already gathered. In the center of the living room sat a table with the urn and Jack’s black-and-white photo. In our rural community, cremation was rare. People believed in a proper burial. In my past life, I wondered why Mrs. Miller cremated him so quickly without a viewing. The Mayor had claimed Jack wanted to be "modern" and spare us the pain of seeing his mangled body. I had cried at his nobility. Now, I knew it was just a way to hide an empty coffin. "Sarah, where were you? Come help," Mrs. Miller called out, wiping her dry eyes. "I’m going to bury him in the family plot." I nodded obediently and played the part of the grieving widow. Since it was a "tragic accident," the funeral was simple. I wore black, held the urn, and cried my way to the graveyard. The neighbors were generous. A metal box full of cash donations sat under Mrs. Miller’s bed. In my last life, I never touched it. I worked to pay off debts while she secretly mailed that money to Jack in the city. I counted the logbook. Over a thousand dollars. In the late 70s, that was a fortune. To stop her from sending it to that cheater, I came up with a plan. Chapter 3 The next morning, I went to the Mayor’s office. I demanded widow’s benefits and, crucially, the deed to the house. The Mayor looked conflicted. The house technically belonged to Jack, and since Jack was secretly alive and with his daughter Brenda, signing it over to me felt like robbing his own future son-in-law. I turned on the waterworks. "Mayor, Jack is gone. It's just me and Mom now. If I don't have the house in my name, what security do I have? I’m young. If the extended family kicks me out later, I’ll have nothing!" "If I don't get the house, I might as well remarry now while I still have my looks!" The word "remarry" terrified them. They needed me here. They needed a free servant for Mrs. Miller so Jack and Brenda could live guilt-free in the city. If I remarried and left, their plan would collapse. So, I insisted. Mrs. Miller refused at first. "This is the ancestral home!" "Then go live with your daughter, Alice," I said coldly. "I won't stay without security." Alice, Jack’s sister, hated her mother because Mrs. Miller was a misogynist who treated her like dirt. Mrs. Miller knew Alice wouldn't take her in. "Sarah, she's your mother-in-law," the Mayor pressured. "You can't just leave her. The university enrollment period has passed anyway. You're stuck here." "I know," I sighed. "Just see if the town can help her. I can't do it alone." Cornered, Mrs. Miller finally cracked. "Fine. You’re young, it’s hard for you to stay. The house is yours. We’ll sign the deed tomorrow." I hid my smirk. The next day, with the town council as witnesses, the deed was transferred to my name. It was done. That afternoon, Mrs. Miller went to town with her metal box, presumably to wire money to Jack. I waited. That night, she kicked open my bedroom door, shaking with rage. "You... you declared my son dead?!" Chapter 4 I sat up, feigning innocence. "Yes, Mom. He is dead. I needed the death certificate to apply for widow benefits. It’s standard procedure." The Mayor had used his connections to get the fake hospital and cremation records. Those documents were exactly what I used to legally erase Jack from existence. "You poisonous woman!" Mrs. Miller clutched her chest, gasping. "Why are you so mad?" I asked, tilting my head. "Shouldn't a widow handle her husband's paperwork? Unless... he's not really dead?" She froze. She couldn't tell the truth. "I... I should have done it!" she stammered. "You're too old for the hassle," I said dismissively. "Go to sleep, Mom." I pushed her out and locked the door. I knew what happened. She tried to wire money or do something that required Jack's ID, and was told the SSN was invalid. Deceased. Jack was now a ghost. He couldn't legally work, rent an apartment, or open a bank account. To fix it, he’d have to come back here, reveal he was alive, and face the fraud charges. I heard Mrs. Miller sobbing in her room and laughed into my pillow. A few days later, Mrs. Miller kept running off to the city. While she was gone, I sold everything. Jack’s bicycle, the sewing machine, the radio—I sold it all to a junk dealer. When Mrs. Miller came home to an empty house, she exploded. "You witch! Are you trying to strip this house bare?" she screamed on the front porch, attracting a crowd. I sat on the steps and wailed louder than her. "I have no choice! Jack is gone, I can't farm ten acres alone! The benefits didn't come through! If I don't sell this junk, we starve!" I pulled out the donation logbook. "Neighbors gave us money for the funeral, but Mom hid it all! She guards it like a dragon! I haven't seen a dime! She’d rather starve us than spend a penny of it!" The neighbors began to murmur. "There was over a thousand dollars in that box," one man said. "Mrs. Miller, take it out. Sarah is a good girl, she's staying to help you." "That's my coffin money!" Mrs. Miller shrieked. "She cancelled my son's existence behind my back! She's evil!" "Mom," I cried, "I cancelled it because he's dead! Why do you act like he's still alive?" The neighbors looked at her like she was senile. Defeated, Mrs. Miller stormed inside. The next morning, I packed my bag. I took the money I had stashed from selling the furniture (and the cash I swapped out of her metal box earlier) and boarded a train to the city. It was too late for the university scholarship, but I wasn't done with Brenda.
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