Narrowing my eyes, I watch her movements. They’re too fast, lacking her usual finesse and elegance. “What are you doing?” She turns around, yelping, and I’m staring at a replica of my wife. Someone who has the exact same looks and build. Even the eyes are almost identical. Almost. Because those eyes? They don’t have the deep sadness in Lia’s. The permanent sheen of gray. “Who are you?” I ask. She gulps, the packet of frozen meat dangling from her hand. “W-what do you mean who am I? I’m Lia.”
Of course he knows five seconds flat it isn’t Lia. If that isn’t an obsessed man in love 😍
