My Late Husband’s Brothers Came to My Son’s Fifth Birthday

I was celebrating my sons fifth birthday when my late husbands brothers arrived.

You didnt you die in that fire five years ago?

I froze instantly.

My husband was the one who died, the whole team knew it.

But the new firefighter shook his head, his face etched with terror.

No, our captain didnt die. He even showed us a family photo last week.

He said his current wife is his only love.

Youre drunk! What nonsense are you spouting?!

The atmosphere at the dinner table instantly solidified.

Mr. Miller, Captain Arthur Finch's old commander, stood up, his face drained of color, clapping a hand over the young firefighter's mouth.

Hes talking nonsense. Dont take it to heart.

He said, forcibly dragging Finn O'Connell out.

Im not drunk! Everything I said is true! Captain, he

Finns struggling voice faded further and further away, finally cut off by the heavy thud of a closing door.

A deathly silence filled the private room.

Arthurs brothers, the men who had come every year to celebrate birthdays with me and my son, now hung their heads, no one daring to meet my gaze.

The birthday cake still held its "5" candle. My son, Leo, looked up at me with eyes strikingly similar to Arthur's, confused.

Mom, whats wrong with the uncles?

I snapped back to reality, forcing a smile as I ruffled his hair.

Nothing, sweetheart. The uncles are just playing a game.

I looked at Mr. Miller. He had returned, a stiff smile plastered on his face.

Hes new, doesnt know the rules. He must have confused our captain with another captain from a neighboring city. Don't take him seriously, please.

Thats right, thats right. How could there be two people who look so alike?

Exactly. Our captain is a hero, the whole city knows it!

They tried their best to explain, but the more they explained, the heavier my heart felt.

I had known Arthur for ten years, married him for three.

Five years ago, the fire that incinerated half of the citys west warehouse district also took him away.

He had selflessly rushed into the collapsing inferno to save the last trapped child.

They couldn't even find his body, only his burnt, deformed wedding ring in the ruins.

For the past five years, I had raised our son alone, relying on his pension and the support from these "brothers."

I always believed they were helping out of loyalty to a fallen comrade, looking out for me and Leo for Arthur's sake.

But now, it seemed things weren't as I had thought.

I raised my glass, toasting Mr. Miller.

Mr. Miller, Im so grateful for all your help these past few years.

Nonsense, Elara. Its the least we could do.

He quickly raised his glass, downing it in one gulp, as if trying to conceal something.

I lowered my gaze, my voice soft.

Then what was the name of the captain he mentioned?

Mr. Millers body stiffened abruptly.

The faces of the men next to him instantly turned ashen.

That I cant remember, haha. It was just a misunderstanding.

Mr. Miller chuckled awkwardly, his eyes darting nervously.

The rest of the meal passed in a blur. I couldn't taste anything.

They practically fled the restaurant, making hurried excuses as they left.

After I tucked Leo into bed, I watched his sleeping face, a spitting image of Arthur's, and my heart ached with a sharp, throbbing pain.

My husband was the one who died.

But why would that new firefighter say such a thing?

He said his current wife was his only love.

What was I, then?

What did my five years of mourning mean?

A chilling thought began to grow wildly in my mind.

I had to uncover the truth.

The next day, I made some soup and went to the fire station under the pretense of thanking them.

When the crew saw me, they greeted me warmly, but beneath their enthusiasm, I sensed an uncomfortable evasiveness.

I didnt see Finn.

Mr. Miller, wheres Finn? He seemed quite drunk yesterday, I wanted to check if hes okay.

I asked, feigning casualness.

Mr. Miller was polishing a trophy on the honor wall. At my question, his hand twitched, and the trophy nearly clattered to the floor.

Oh him? He had an urgent family matter back home. He took leave early this morning and left.

His lie was so transparent it was laughable.

A newcomer, who had been transferred less than a month ago and whose family details hadn't even been fully registered, what urgent matter could he possibly have?

My gaze fell on the honor wall.

There was Arthurs black and white photo, his smile bright and his presence commanding.

Below the photo, it read: Arthur Finch.

I stared at that picture, a heavy, suffocating feeling settling in my chest.

Next to it was a team photo of the rescue squad, taken a month before the fire.

Arthur stood in the center, his arm around my shoulder. We looked so happy, so in love.

But my attention was drawn to an inconspicuous woman behind him.

She wore a logistics uniform, standing in the corner, her eyes fixed intently on Arthur.

That gaze was filled with unabashed obsession and possessiveness.

I didn't recall anyone like her being on the team.

Mr. Miller, who is this woman? I dont seem to recognize her.

I pointed at the photo.

Mr. Millers face changed again.

Her? Oh just a temporary worker. What was her name again She left after only a few days. Not important, not important.

He quickly changed the subject, pulling me towards their newly equipped fire truck.

I feigned interest, my mind consumed by the woman's intense gaze.

Back home, I rummaged through all of Arthurs belongings.

A locked tin box rolled out from the bottom of a chest.

This was our "Time Capsule," which we'd bought together before he enlisted. We'd promised to fill it with our most precious memories.

He said he would keep the key, and we'd open it together when we were old.

But now, he was gone.

I found a hammer and, without hesitation, savagely smashed the lock open.

The box opened. Inside were no love letters, no photos of us.

Only a thick stack of photos and a pink diary.

The photos showed Arthur and that woman.

They were kissing on the beach, cuddling on a snowy mountain, smiling so brightly in every single photo it hurt my eyes.

My hands trembling, I opened the pink diary.

The neat, elegant script documented a womans disturbing obsession with my husband, and her resentment towards me.

Why did he marry *that* woman? Shes not worthy of him at all!

He says he loves me, so why does he still sleep in the same bed as her?

Arthur promised me. After this mission, hell tell Elara everything. He said hed give me and *our child* a family.

Our child

A deafening buzz filled my head, and my mind went utterly blank.

Tucked into the last page of the diary was an ultrasound scan.

The name written on it was Serena Reed.

The date was six years ago.

A year older than my son, Leo.

My world, in that moment, completely collapsed.

The profound love I thought we had was nothing but a drama I'd played alone.

The hero Id mourned for five years had, behind my back, not only taken another woman but also had a child older than my own son.

A wave of profound disgust and betrayal washed over me, sending me rushing to the bathroom to dry heave.

I collapsed onto the cold tiles, tears silently streaming down my face.

That woman named Serena Reed

I frantically searched my memory for the name.

It clicked.

Before we got married, Arthur had casually mentioned a neighbor from his hometown, a younger girl who had always liked him.

At the time, I hadn't thought much of it, just dismissed it as a joke.

It wasn't a joke.

It was a ticking time bomb buried beneath my happy life.

I wiped my tears and returned to the box.

Beneath the diary and photos, I found an unsent letter.

It was Arthurs handwriting.

Serena, everything is arranged. The fire at the west warehouse will be our new beginning.

Ive found a way to lure Elara there. After the fire, shell accidentally die.

Then, Ill declare myself killed in the line of duty, and assume a new identity.

Once the dust settles, Ill come for you and our child.

Serena, wait for me. From now on, no one can ever separate us.

At the end of the letter, there was a crude smiley face.

I stared at that letter, every word a poisoned dagger, tearing my heart to shreds.

He wasnt going to save people.

He was going to kill me.

He had orchestrated a massive fire, intending to burn me into an unrecognizable charred body, then live happily ever after with his mistress.

So what really happened five years ago?

Why wasnt it me who died? Why was *he* "sacrificed"?

I forced myself to calm down, recalling every detail of the fire five years ago.

That day, I, a photographer, indeed had a shooting assignment at the west warehouse.

But just before I left, Arthur suddenly called me, his voice softer than Id ever heard it.

He said he had a bad feeling, like something bad was going to happen.

He insisted I cancel my work and take Leo to my mothers house for a few days, no matter what.

He said he'd bought us train tickets, which were on the nightstand.

I was touched by his thoughtfulness then, believing he was simply worried about me.

Now, looking back, he wasnt worried about *me*; he was trying to get *rid* of me!

He needed evidence of me being "present" but couldn't let anything actually happen to me.

Because he still needed me to handle his "death" paperwork!

My press pass!

I had been in a rush that day and casually left my bag, containing my press pass and shooting permit, in my car.

And my car was parked in the warehouse parking lot!

The fire report later mentioned an unrecognizable female body found at the scene, with my documents scattered nearby.

Everyone thought the body was mine.

But later, DNA comparison revealed it wasn't.

The police classified it as a cold case at the time, and I, engulfed in the grief of "losing my husband," had no energy to pay attention.

He found a stand-in, then.

An innocent woman, who died in my place.

How utterly ruthless could this man be?!

My body trembled uncontrollably, not from fear, but from a blazing inferno of rage.

Arthur, Serena, and Mr. Miller

Everyone involved in this deserved to rot in hell!