Driving home urgently to my wife, Elaine, who reported an intruder, I swerved to avoid a boy and crashed. I woke up in the hospital, unable to move or speak but aware of my surroundings.
When Elaine visited, she made a shocking call: “John did not die, baby. I should have known that the mechanic I paid to tamper with his brakes would do a terrible job.” I felt disheartened and betrayed. Soon after, the boy I saved and his mother visited to thank me, offering some comfort.
Elaine never returned, but the boy’s mother, Jenna, visited often, reading to me and caring for me. I fell in love with her. After two months, she shared that she was moving due to debt. Her impending departure motivated me to open my eyes.
Pretending I had died, I confronted Elaine when she came to the hospital. She exclaimed on the phone, “Our plan worked!” I revealed myself, and she was terrified. I told her I wanted a divorce and threatened legal action. Jenna and I began a relationship, living happily together with her son.
