I remember the day they told me Ron was gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It didn\u2019t feel real. Nothing about it made sense. One moment, he was here, and the next, I was standing in a hospital hallway being told there had been an accident.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They said he lost control of the car and crashed into a ditch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was eight months pregnant at the time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I don\u2019t remember much from those days. Just pieces. People talking. Papers to sign. The sound of my own breathing feeling too loud in my ears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The grief hit me so hard that I lost the baby too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In a single moment, I lost everything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They buried Ron in a closed casket. Next to our unborn child.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I didn\u2019t question it. I couldn\u2019t. I didn\u2019t have the strength to ask anything, to doubt anything. I just accepted what I was told because it was already too much to survive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
After that, I left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I moved to another city, far from everything that reminded me of that life. I found a job, built a routine, and did my best to exist without looking back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Three years passed like that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Quiet. Empty. Controlled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Until last Sunday.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I heard noise coming from the hallway. Loud dragging, boxes being moved, doors opening and closing. Someone new was moving in next door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked through the window and saw them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A man. A woman. A little girl.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For a second, I just stood there watching.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was the kind of scene that used to belong to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And then the man looked up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My heart stopped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He looked exactly like Ron.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not similar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not close.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Exact.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Same hair. Same eyes. Same way of holding himself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It felt like my body forgot how to move.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A few minutes later, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. The man and the little girl reached my floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They were moving into the apartment right next to mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I didn\u2019t think.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I opened my door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He turned toward me, and for a moment, I couldn\u2019t breathe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was like looking at a ghost.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cExcuse me\u2026\u201d I said, my voice shaking. \u201cThis might sound strange, but do you know someone named Ron?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He didn\u2019t hesitate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo,\u201d he said quickly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then he picked up the little girl and said, \u201cKatie, let\u2019s go home.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I froze.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Katie.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Out of all the names in the world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I stepped closer, my heart racing so hard it hurt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d I said, trying to steady myself. \u201cYou just\u2026 you look exactly like someone I used to know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He moved to close the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And that\u2019s when I saw it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Two fingers missing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The same two fingers Ron lost when he was a child.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It wasn\u2019t possible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It couldn\u2019t be.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But it was right there in front of me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cRon\u2026\u201d I whispered, my voice breaking. \u201cIs that really you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He stopped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For a second, he didn\u2019t move at all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then he looked at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And in his eyes, I saw something I wasn\u2019t prepared for.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not confusion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not anger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Something else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Something heavier.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And what he said next\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n
made everything I believed fall apart.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I remember the day they told me Ron was gone. It didn\u2019t feel real. Nothing about it made sense. One moment, he was here, and the next,… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1904,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-13945","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-blog"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mantolay.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13945","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mantolay.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mantolay.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mantolay.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mantolay.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=13945"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/mantolay.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13945\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13946,"href":"https:\/\/mantolay.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13945\/revisions\/13946"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mantolay.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1904"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mantolay.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=13945"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mantolay.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=13945"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mantolay.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=13945"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}