It was a day like any other, whatever that means to you. I sat in my old rocking chair, next to the fireplace, enjoying my pipe. Some might say I was smoking fire next to a fire, but that was beside the point. I was relaxing—or at least trying to. My mind never really stopped racing. Even in stillness, thoughts of what to create next tore through my brain, one after the other.

I stared into the flames, letting the flickers of light carry me somewhere else. What did I see today? A gremlin, maybe? A monster? No… it was a face, forming quickly, only to vanish into the smoke. They always vanished.

Just like the faces in the real world. People come and go as fast as money, maybe faster. Lucy’s face was different, though.

Lucy—my wife, or at least, she used to be—was always there. She was like the fire, constant and burning, even though I rarely stuck around to feel its warmth. I was always out cheating, lying, and living a double life while she stayed home and did everything. It wasn’t until she was gone that I realized how much she did. Cooking, cleaning, taking care of the kids—it was all her. I was just… there, and sometimes not even that.

I was a piece of shit. I can admit that now. Looking back, I know I wasn’t much of a husband. I was a mess of thoughts, always hopping from one thing to another, never really satisfied. But Lucy? She stayed, even though I gave her every reason not to. Maybe she knew I was cheating. Maybe she didn’t. But she never said a word.

Sometimes I wonder if she had her own secrets, living a double life while I was out. It wouldn’t surprise me. Hell, I almost hope she did. It would make the way I treated her seem a little less cruel.

Lucy wasn’t perfect—far from it—but she didn’t deserve the husband she got. Especially not after I missed the birth of our first child because I couldn’t be bothered to leave work. She scheduled the C-section on a day I started a new job, and I stayed. I told myself it was important for our future, but I knew deep down I was just running. Running from responsibility, from love, from everything that could make me a real man.

But it’s funny how life works. Here I am now, alone in this house, staring into a fire, wondering where it all went wrong. Lucy’s gone. She died young—28 years old, taken before I ever had the chance to make things right. And now, I’m left with five kids, no wife, and a heart full of regret.

God, Lucy, if you can hear me, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. For not being the man I should have been. For cheating. For running. For failing.

I always thought I was too smart for my own good. Too clever to be trapped by the same routines as everyone else. But the truth is, I was trapped all along—by myself. By the man I’d become.

I guess I learned a lot after she died. Life has a way of doing that, you know? Smacking you upside the head when you’re too blind to see the truth. I stayed for the kids because they needed someone. They needed a father. Even though they irritate me, even though they make me angry sometimes, they’re all I’ve got left. I can’t leave them, no matter how much I want to just give up.

But I wasn’t always this mess. I wasn’t always this broken. It was the world around me that shaped me into this. The programming, the schedules, the endless routines that society drills into you from birth. And me? I fell right into it.

I always knew my way around a computer, even learned a little about gematria—the idea that everything can be explained through numbers. I thought if the numbers lined up, then maybe my actions made sense. Maybe my cheating, my lying, my running—it all had a purpose.

But it didn’t. None of it did.

Now, I don’t even want another woman. I just want Lucy back. But that’s impossible, isn’t it? Once they’re gone, they don’t come back. Not unless they haunt you.

And maybe she does.

The sound of the front door opening startled me out of my thoughts. I turned my head, half expecting to see one of the kids. But it wasn’t one of them.

It was Lucy.

“Dammit! I thought I told you kids to clean this fucking house today!” she yelled, her voice sharp as ever.

I blinked, my pipe nearly slipping from my hand. It couldn’t be her. It wasn’t possible. But there she stood, angry and alive, just like the day she left.

I set my pipe down and stood, my heart pounding in my chest as I walked toward her. “I thought you were dead,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

She gave me a look, half-amused, half-sneering. “Wouldn’t that be something you want?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My mind was racing, trying to make sense of what was happening. How was she here? How could she possibly be standing in front of me?

“You’ve been avoiding me for weeks,” she said, crossing her arms. “I didn’t buy you smoke, so now you’re just sulking, huh?”

“I’m avoiding anything toxic,” I replied, my voice steadying. “Anything the Lord doesn’t want me to be part of.”

She scoffed. “Fuck your Lord.”

I stared at her, the firelight casting long shadows across her face. Something was wrong. This wasn’t Lucy. It couldn’t be. But before I could say anything more, she spoke again.

“Why didn’t you get the kids to do what I asked?” she demanded.

“You told me to take it easy,” I said, my frustration building. “And that’s what I’m doing.”

“Right. Well, like you said, you’re not in the right state of mind,” she said coldly.

I watched as she turned her back to me, heading toward the kitchen. My mind swirled with questions, doubts, and fear. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

But as the door swung shut behind her, one thing became painfully clear.

Maybe I hadn’t been the only one living a double life after all.

To be continued…