My husband died right after we got married, but when I stepped into a taxi, he turned around and looked at me!

I froze. That voice—steady, warm, familiar. My heart began to pound. Slowly, I lifted my eyes to the rearview mirror. Brown eyes, the same eyes I had just mourned at a graveside, stared back at me.

“Torin?” My voice broke. “How… how is this possible?”

He pulled the car off the road and parked on a quiet side street. His hands gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles whitened. Then he turned to face me fully.

“I’m sorry, Liora,” he said softly. “Please, let me explain before you hate me.”

I couldn’t speak. I could only listen as he unraveled the truth I never imagined.