The Funeral Bride

It hit me that I wasn't ready to say goodbye to him until the box was half-buried.

It began to rain in Evermist Cemetery. At first it was soft, but then it got harder, making the shoulders of the people around me darker.

I didn't even notice.

I kept looking at the black, shiny box that was lying below me.

It was really Julian inside.

The man I was going to marry.

When I found out that the man was dead, I was too scared to open his last message on my phone, so it was still there.

The small black umbrella was wrapped around my fingers.

A prayer, said silently next to me,

Another wept.

I heard the ropes groan.

The box sank another inch.

I felt my chest tighten.

This was meant to be goodbye.

I had been saying these words all morning.

Is that, Julian.

Is that our planed story.

Farewell to the flat we had chosen.

Bye to the wedding dress sitting in my closet, unused.

Goodbye to the future I had so stupidly taken for granted.

My eyes watered.

I moved an inche toward the grave. ""stop!!.

The word came from somewhere behind him.

Nobody moved.

Then it came once more. "“Stop the burial.

This time the voice was louder.

The ropes stopped.

All eyes turned to him.

A black car had pulled up outside the graveyard.

Then a man came out.

He didn't look like the kind of guy who goes to funerals.

He wore a black coat that fit him perfectly, his dark hair was untouched by the rain and his face was so controlled, that it threw me off balance immediately.

He walked over to us. No cover.

People made a way for him to walk.

I had never seen him previously.

He stopped at the grave and looked at me directly

Not at the box.

Not to the mourners.

At me. "I have to talk to you," he said.

My throat grew tight. "Who are you ?

His gray eyes glanced at the coffin for a second.

And then back to me. "“My name is Adrian Voss.”

The name meant nothing to me.

But the way he said it changed how the air around us felt. “"I don't know you .I know. "So why are you here?"

He looked again at the box. "For the man you are about to bury is not Julian Cross.

For a moment I thought I'd heard him wrong.

The rain beat against my umbrella.

Someone behind me breathed sharply.

I looked at him." What're you sayin'?" "Julian Cross was never.

My heart, it appeared, stopped. “No.”

I shook my head. "Not today." ""I’m not trying to hurt you." You came to my fiancé's funeral and told me he wasn't Julian?" ""Yes.

My voice went up. Then go.'

He didn’t.

But Adrian put his hand in his coat.

Some fell back.

I stopped.

He retrieved a leather wallet.

No weapons.

files.

He opened it carefully and drew out a laminated identification card.

He shoved it toward me.

I didn't want to see.

But I did.

It was Julian in the picture.

Same face.

Same eyes.

Same scar over his ear.

My Julian.

Only the name underneath wasn't Julian Cross.

It was Nathan Voss.

I looked at the card.

My fingers turned cold. "Not a bit."

Adrian said naught.

I looked again.

Perhaps I had read it wrong.

Perhaps the rain had blurred the letters.

But they stayed.

Nathaniel Voss

I was starting to breathe shallowly. Where did you get that?" "From a private security archive.”

"That's not going to work." It's not." "He showed me his papers. I know." "He had a driver’s license.” I know." Had a passport. "I know.”

I looked at him. Then explain it." "

Adrian closed the folder .Julian Cross was a name made for someone else.

My stomach did a flip .Created? Yes. " "Who was he?

Adrian's face hardened. "That's what I'm trying to figure out.

I had one laugh, but it wasn't a laughing matter. "You don't know who he was?" “I know more than you think I do.”

My hands started to shake.

I hated him seeing it.

I hated even more that a part of me wanted to believe him.

Because there were things about Julian I never understood.

The surprise work trips.

He took the calls outside.

The accounts he never spoke of.

The way he would look back over his shoulder sometimes when we were walking together.

I asked him about it.

He would always kiss my face and say I worried too much.

I’d trusted him.

Because I loved him.

Adrian closed the gap. “Elara.

Hearing my name on a stranger's lips made me tense. "“How did you know my name?”

His face changed a little. “Julian told me about you.

My heart broke. "Then you knew him? Not like Julian.

The rain was nothing compared to the words.

I looked at the box.

Suddenly, the person I had loved was a stranger." Who's in that coffin?"

Adrian didn’t answer right away. "Someone who wanted the world to believe he was Julian Cross," he said softly.

Tears came to my eyes. Who would want to do that?”" That is the question."

He opened the folder, again.

This time he made a photograph.

He looked at it for a second and gave it to me. ""I need you to look at something."

I stopped.

And then I got it.

The picture was a woman standing next to Adrian.

She wore a white dress.

I caught my breath.

I held my breath.

The graveyard had disappeared.

The rain had stopped.

All vanished.

Because the woman in the picture looked like me.

Not the case.

Not even close.

Me.

The hair was dark brown.

Same mouth shape.

The same eyes.

The same gentle curve to the jaw.

Even the little beauty spot under the left eye.

My beauty spot.

I looked at the picture.

My fingers started to shake badly. ”No.

Adrian studied me closely.

The woman smiled for the camera.

She stood by him as if she was supposed to be there.

As if she had known him.

As if she wanted him.

I turned to Adrian. Who is she?

He clenched his jaw. My wife."

The photo fell from my hand.

It hit the wet ground face-first.

I couldn’t move.

His wife.

The woman with my face.”

Adrian stooped and picked up the picture.

He looked at me.

For the first time his face broke into control.

His voice dropped to a whisper. Seraphine Voss was her name.

My heartbeat was pounding in my chest.

I stared at the box.

Then at the shot.

Then back to the stranger who’d walked into my fiancé’s funeral and ruined everything I thought I knew.

Adrian moved one step closer to me." My wife died eighteen months ago."

He held the photograph between us. But you..."

His eyes passed over my face....you look just like her."

The ropes about Julian's box creaked again.

And all at once I wasn't sure that the man in the coffee was the only dead man at this funeral.

Because the woman in Adrian's shot had my face."

She was supposed to be dead.