Before marrying my husband, I felt I needed to visit his late wife’s grave and ask for forgiveness. He always said it wasn’t necessary, but I went anyway—alone.

When I approached her headstone, I froze. The photo on the monument showed a woman who looked exactly like me—same eyes, same smile, same features. It was uncanny.

Disturbed, I started digging into her past. The more I learned, the stranger it became: her “accident” didn’t add up, the case seemed rushed, and whispers hinted that she had been afraid of my husband.

Piece by piece, the truth emerged: he hadn’t lost his wife by chance—and he had been searching for someone who looked just like her.

And now, that someone was me.