I once believed I had successfully concealed my past, along with my husband, whom I presumed had died three years prior.
However, on a distant beach, I saw him—alive, smiling, his hand intertwined with a woman and a little girl.
My entire world shattered anew.
Could it truly be him?
And why was he with another family?
My Anthony adored the ocean; it was his sanctuary from daily life.
He possessed a small boat, frequently taking it out to fish, swim, or simply revel in the water.
Typically, he’d bring someone along, either me or a friend, but on that particular day, he chose to go by himself.
I was in the initial stages of pregnancy then, and a flicker of worry about the baby stirred within me.
Yet, when Anthony announced his plans for the boat, an internal alarm began to shriek.
I pleaded with him not to go.
I implored him to remain.
But he simply smiled, assured me everything would be fine, kissed me farewell, and departed.
The storm materialized without warning.
My husband vanished without a trace; his body was never recovered.
I crumbled.
My emotions were raw.
The overwhelming stress ultimately claimed the baby too.
I lost everything.
Three years have elapsed since that day.
Throughout these years, I couldn’t bring myself to approach the water.
It was too terrifying, too painful.
But I finally resolved that to heal, I had to confront it.
Visiting the beach in our town was out of the question—it would have been unbearable.
So, I purchased a ticket and booked a solo vacation.
“How can you go alone? I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mom expressed her concern.
“Take at least one friend, or let me accompany you,” she urged.
“I don’t have any friends anymore,” I retorted.
“Then I’ll come,” Mom declared.
“No. I don’t want that. I need to be alone,” I responded firmly.
Two days later, I had already arrived at the resort.
I checked into my hotel, yet I still couldn’t bring myself to descend to the beach.
The following morning, I finally donned my swimsuit, packed my beach bag, and made my way toward the shore.
People swam, splashed, and laughed.
Children constructed sandcastles.
Hours drifted by.
Eventually, I compelled myself to stand and take a few steps toward the water.
But I persisted, inching closer and closer.
That’s when I noticed them.
A family of three.
A man, a woman, and a small girl—no older than three.
When I saw the man’s face, the ground seemed to vanish beneath me.
“Anthony!” I cried out.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. Just breathe. Do you need an inhaler?” Anthony asked urgently.
“Alright. In and out. In and out. You’re okay,” he repeated softly.
“You’re alive,” I murmured.
“Do you know her?” the woman inquired of him.
“I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” Anthony replied. “My name’s Drake.”
“No, it’s not! It’s Anthony. It’s me—Marissa. Your wife,” I said, tears streaming down my face. He was alive!
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t know who you are,” he stated.
“You don’t remember me? Anthony, please—it’s me,” I pleaded.
“Are you staying at the hotel nearby?” the woman asked; she must have noticed my wristband. “We can help you back if you’re feeling unwell.”
“I don’t need anyone to backtrack! I need my husband to stop acting like he doesn’t know me!” I whispered.
“Come on, Kaitlyn,” he said to the woman.
He had forged a new life.
And he was pretending I had never existed.
Had he faked his own death just to be with this other family?
I gathered myself, collected my belongings from the lounge chair, and slowly made my way back to the hotel.
But that evening, a knock echoed at my door.
There she was, the woman from the beach.
“What do you want from me?!” I whispered.
“My name’s Kaitlyn, and I just want to talk,” she said gently.
“Please.”
“Why did you come here? To threaten me? To tell me Anthony chose you?” I challenged.
“I came to explain,” Kaitlyn responded.
“Until today, I didn’t even know his real name was Anthony. I had no idea about his past, and neither did he.”
“What are you talking about?” I questioned.
“Drake… or Anthony, I suppose… he washed up on the shore one day. No ID, nothing. He was in critical condition and fell into a coma,” Kaitlyn explained.
“I was his nurse. I took care of him,” she continued.
“When he finally awoke, the doctors realized he’d lost all his memories. He didn’t even know his own name. I was with him through his recovery, every step of it. And… we fell in love.”
“And the child?” I asked.
“She’s mine. But Drake accepted her as his own. We built a life together from scratch. I love him deeply. But you’re his wife. I have no right to take him from you,” she expressed with intensity.
“Can I talk to him?” I inquired.
“Yes. He’s a bit shaken after what occurred on the beach, but yes, you should talk,” Kaitlyn nodded.
“Anthony, do you truly not remember me?” I asked.
“No… I… I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I can show you our pictures,” I offered.
We sat on the couch, and I opened the gallery on my phone.
“We were supposed to have a baby,” I murmured.
“But when you vanished, I couldn’t handle the grief… and I lost the baby.”
“I’m so sorry you went through that,” Anthony said.
“But I don’t remember any of it. I feel like a total jerk right now.”
“It’s okay. Maybe it’ll come back,” I said.
“Maybe,” he whispered.
Suddenly, the door burst open and the little girl from the beach ran in.
“What’s going on, wild one?” Anthony laughed.
“Daddy, you promised we’d play!” she cried.
And that’s when I saw it.
The way Anthony looked at her, at Kaitlyn.
I recognized that look.
Now he looked at her that way.
Not me.
I was merely some woman who had appeared and shattered his peace.
“No. I can’t do this,” I nodded.
“What do you mean?” Anthony asked.
“I can’t take you away from this life. The Anthony I loved, the man who was mine… he passed away three years ago. You’re someone else now. Your heart isn’t connected to me anymore; it belongs to her,” I stated.
“I’m really sorry,” Anthony whispered.
“Don’t be. Maybe this was something I needed. I never got the chance to say goodbye. Now I finally can,” I said.
“So what happens now?” he asked softly.
“You go back to the life you know. And I’ll finally start living mine,” I told him.
“So… you don’t want to see me again?” he inquired.
“No. I don’t. I wish I could have my Anthony back, but that’s not possible. So goodbye… Anthony. Or Drake,” I concluded.
I could finally breathe after three years.
He had his new life, and it was no longer mine.
