It’s been two years since Elizabeth passed, and some days, I still half-expect to see her walk through the door. I guess that’s normal when you lose someone you love that much. But I never expected what happened with Mia. I mean, how could I?

Elizabeth was everything to us — a loving wife and an incredible mother. She had this magical bond with Mia; they were inseparable, always giggling and playing together, like two halves of the same heart.

Every day without her has been a struggle, but even when the emptiness feels overwhelming, I’ve tried to stay strong for Mia.

My five-year-old daughter and I were slowly learning to live with grief until she announced one day with a confidence that took me completely off guard, “Mommy visits me at school.”

She looked up at me, her wide eyes full of certainty, clutching a drawing in her small hands. “She gave me chocolate today.”

I felt my heart skip a beat. Elizabeth, my wife — Mia’s mother — had been gone for two years now. It was cancer, and it was fast. Too fast. I thought Mia was too young to really understand. But now, hearing her say that, I didn’t know what to think.

“Sweetie, Mommy’s gone,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady. “She can’t—”

“She can,” Mia cut me off, her little chin jutting out stubbornly. “She talks to me after recess. She watches me play, Daddy.”

At first, I thought it was just her way of coping, you know? Filling in the gaps with her imagination. But then, the drawings started coming home. Picture after picture of Mia and her mom — holding hands, playing in the schoolyard, sitting on the swings.

And it wasn’t just stick figures; she drew Elizabeth with this uncanny detail. The long, chestnut hair, the soft eyes, even the blue dress Elizabeth used to wear.

Then there were the chocolates. Mia would come home every few days with these small, neatly wrapped chocolates in her backpack. I didn’t pack them, and when I checked with the school, they had no idea either.

I started losing sleep. Every night I’d lie awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of it all. Finally, I decided I couldn’t just ignore it anymore. I called Mia’s school.

“Is there someone who’s been interacting with Mia?” I asked, my voice shaking.

Mrs. Blake, her teacher, hesitated on the other end. “Mr. Carter, I wasn’t sure how to bring this up, but… yes. There’s a woman who’s been talking to Mia at school. And outside, when school lets out.”

My heart sank. “What does she look like?”

There was a long pause. “She… she looks like your wife, Elizabeth. I’ve tried to approach her, but she always runs off before I can get close. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s unsettling.”

I was stunned. I didn’t know what to say or think. How could this be happening? Who was this woman?

That night, I couldn’t sleep at all. My mind raced with questions I didn’t have answers to. I decided I had to see for myself. The next day, I went to school early and hid near the playground, waiting for this mystery woman to appear.
Mia came out with the other kids, her laughter filling the air as she ran toward the swings. And then I saw her — a woman standing by the fence, watching Mia.

She wore a long coat, and her face was hidden under a wide-brimmed hat, but I could tell even from a distance. The resemblance was uncanny.

I took a deep breath and stepped forward, my heart pounding. As soon as she saw me, she turned and bolted. But I was ready for that. I chased her down, cornering her near the back of the schoolyard.

“Who are you?” I demanded, out of breath, my hands shaking. “Why are you doing this?”

The woman turned slowly, and when she finally faced me, my heart stopped. She looked exactly like Elizabeth — older, maybe, but with the same face and eyes.