FICTION — SHORT STORY
Two Years Too Late
A hidden secret can chill you like a ghostly murmur on a moonless night.
Waking up, the bed’s warmth cradled you, the linens as soft as a cloud, their pale blue like a morning sky. But as you stretched, an unexpected chill touched your side. For two years, mornings felt like a dream, wrapped in the magic of newlywed happiness. The quilt, adorned with dainty flowers, hugged you close. Yet that strange coldness persisted, even as the scent of fresh coffee filled the air.
A nagging unease tugged at you, like a tight knot in your chest and a flutter in your belly. It whispered of hidden shadows, just out of sight in this bright world. Over time, tiny quirks about your husband grew more noticeable. Each sunrise brought fresh doubts and questions.
Your husband leaned closer, love shining in his eyes, and kissed your forehead. “Good morning, my love,” he whispered. His voice usually soothed your worries, but today, a chilling thought broke through: You don’t truly know him.
His eyes, warm yet mysterious, seemed to hide ancient secrets. Your conversations and shared laughter were all tinged with a hint of the unsaid. Questions swirled in your heart, desperate for clarity. Nights became unsettling. Sometimes, you’d catch him whispering in unfamiliar languages, his form a shadow under the moon’s glow. Some nights, his side of the bed felt untouched for hours. Then, silently, he’d return, embracing you as if all was normal.
Flashbacks of Uche, your ex-boyfriend, haunted you—his voice dripping with spite, his overpowering scent. That pain still lingered, pushing you to uncover the truth, no matter the cost. Though every look and touch from your husband spoke of love, the mounting mysteries kept you on edge.
Strange, right? Two years of shared secrets, laughter, and silent moments, yet gaps remained in his history. The friends he introduced—did they truly know him before you? Their tales stopped short of when you entered his life. And those offhand childhood stories—why did they sound rehearsed?
Hidden among his things, you found an old silver watch, its surface worn, and an almost unreadable inscription on the back. Though it looked ancient, it still worked, but its hands moved a touch slower than normal. Curiosity gnawed at you. Was this a cherished relic from his past? The watch’s slow ticking often filled the silence during your night-time talks, hinting at mysteries in his life.
He’d talk about losing his parents when he was young, saying it left deep emotional marks and made him a loner. When he spoke of them, sadness clouded his eyes, their stories lost in time’s fog. Details, like tales of childhood mischief, seemed locked away. You tried asking about his childhood home, hoping to visit. But he’d skilfully dodge, leaving you more hungry for answers.
A saying kept playing in your mind: “The heart has its reasons.” It felt like an old memory, trying to explain the mix of love and doubt you felt. You loved him, believing every word he said.
At times, his deep eyes seemed to hide secrets. Yet a smile would chase those thoughts away. The oddest request he made was, “Promise me, no social media. No photos of us.” How could you vanish online with no photos to remember your times together?
At first, living in the moment felt romantic. But as days became months, the quiet grew deafening. You often wondered if you should share your joy with others. Yet his pained eyes when he begged you to avoid the online world held you back. But the solitude started to wear you down.
This morning, as always, you chose to honour his request. But as the hours passed, curiosity nagged at you. While cleaning, you found an old newspaper clipping. His face, one you loved so much, stared back under the headline, ‘Local Man Dies in Tragic Accident.’ You needed to know more.
You thought of the hidden phone you’d recently bought, tucked away in your drawer. Whenever you used it, you’d lock the door, your ears straining for his footsteps. After, you’d wrap it and hide it under old keepsakes in your drawer. One quick search, you thought, to calm this growing doubt.
As he closed the door behind him, your heart raced, reminiscent of youthful mischief. With trembling fingers, you logged onto Facebook. His name, whispered in countless tender moments, awaited in the search bar. As you clicked, each second stretched, anticipation mounting.
The page loaded, revealing a chilling memorial. Those familiar eyes, that unmistakable smile. But the date … two years ago? A chill raced down your spine. Posts of mourning filled the screen: a grieving wife and their children, heartbroken. Pictures and tributes painted a tale of loss.
“Rest in Peace.” … “We miss you every day.” The world blurred, voices of mourning swirling around you, their pain almost audible. The screen’s sorrow seemed to spill into the room, overwhelming your senses.
Memories flooded back, each hinting at his otherworldly nature: the unexplained cold beside him, his mysterious absences, his timeless demeanour. It struck you hard: you shared your life not with a man but with a shadow of one.
What was once your sanctuary now echoed with silent cries of anguish, as if the walls held his memories. A chilling breeze swept away the sun’s warmth. An unmistakable sensation crept over you: the feeling of unseen eyes.
That voice, which had whispered love to you hours ago, now echoed cold and distant. Shadows deepened, seeming alive, watching intently. “Didn’t I warn you about social media?”
The shadows lifted, revealing ghostly images of another family: his former wife and their children. Faces twisted in pain floated like haunting mirages. Laughter and joy, once shared, now echo as mournful laments. Were all those moments just illusions? Were you just a chapter in his endless story?
As darkness threatened to swallow you, a single regret lingered: the wish to remain ignorant of this harrowing truth. The hourglass he’d given you on your anniversary caught the dimming light. Though its sands never seemed to shift, it was mysteriously emptying. Darkness pressed in, the walls inching closer.
An icy grip seized your arm as his voice chilled. “Our time ends now, love.” As he neared, the hourglass shattered, sand spilling out. The once cosy room transformed into a cursed stage. Fear gripped you, and the realisation of an endless dance between life and death loomed. Those once-loving eyes now bore into yours, filled with timeless pain, before all went black.
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