I FOUND MY WIFE’S WEDDING RING IN THE GLASSES CASE INSIDE MY CAR.
I was cleaning out the passenger seat when the small velvet box tumbled onto the floor, and the sound of metal hitting plastic made my stomach drop. I opened it, and there it was — her diamond ring, the one she claimed she lost last month. My fingers trembled, the cold metal biting into my palm as I held it up to the dim afternoon light.
“What’s this doing here?” I muttered, more to myself than anything. But then she walked in, her shadow stretching across the driveway. She froze when she saw what I was holding. “Where did you find that?” she asked, her voice flat, but her hands were shaking.
“In my car. In a glasses case. Care to explain?” I could feel the heat rising in my chest, my voice cracking under the weight of the words. She looked away, her jaw tightening. “It’s not what you think,” she started, but I cut her off. “So it’s not the ring you said you lost? The one we spent weeks looking for?”
She didn’t answer. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of a passing car. Her perfume — the one I’d always loved — suddenly felt suffocating. I turned to leave, the ring still clenched in my fist, but she grabbed my arm. “There’s more you need to know,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face.
Then I heard the front door creak open — it was HER.
👇 *Full story continued in the comments…*My wife, Sarah, had been at the grocery store. I knew because I’d asked her to pick up milk. The woman standing before me, the one I’d been married to for seven years, was an imposter. Her hair was a shade too dark, her eyes a touch too green, and the subtle shift in her smile was a betrayal. The real Sarah wouldn’t have left the door unlocked.
“Who… who are you?” I managed, my voice barely a whisper. The fake Sarah squeezed my arm tighter, her nails digging into my skin. “Please, let me explain everything. We’re in danger.”
The woman who had emerged from the house was a perfect replica of Sarah. It was terrifying. She smiled sweetly, but the falseness of it chilled me to the bone. “Darling, what’s going on?” Her voice was a sweet poison.
Fake Sarah pushed me towards the car. “We need to leave. Now!” She pulled a small, silver key from her pocket, unlocked the passenger door, and shoved me inside. Real Sarah (the fake) moved to the driver’s seat, her movements smooth and practiced.
“Where are we going?” I stammered, looking from one Sarah to the other.
“Not ‘we,'” said fake Sarah. “You’re going with me. They’ll kill you if you stay here. This,” she gestured to the woman in the driver’s seat, “isn’t your wife.”
The car lurched to life. Real Sarah’s fake smile widened, her eyes locking onto mine. She put the car in drive. Suddenly, a piercing scream split the air and the sound of screeching tires filled the street. Before anything else could happen, the woman driving the car veered into a car headed in the opposite direction at high speeds, slamming right in front of my face.
The world dissolved into a kaleidoscope of noise and pain. The last thing I saw was the diamond ring, still clutched in my trembling fist, reflecting the fractured light of the crash.