My Ex-Wife… It happened two years ago. My business trip was coming to an end and I was due to return home, to Alperton. After buying my ticket, I decided to wander around the city, since I still had three hours left before my journey. As I was walking, a woman approached me—and I recognised her instantly. She was my first wife, whom I’d divorced twelve years earlier. Zina hadn’t changed at all, except her face seemed almost ghostly pale. I could see the meeting unsettled her as much as it did me. I’d loved her deeply—painfully so—and that had been our undoing. I was jealous of everyone, even her own mother. If she was late, my heart would race and I’d imagine terrible things. Eventually, Zina left, unable to bear my daily interrogations—where she’d been, who with, why. One day, I came home with a little puppy tucked in my coat, wanting to surprise her with a silly present. She wasn’t there. On the table was a note. She wrote that she was leaving, that she still loved me, but my suspicion had drained her. She begged my forgiveness and pleaded that I never try to find her… And now, after twelve years apart, I’d run into her by chance in the city where work had brought me. We talked for a long time, until I suddenly remembered I might miss my coach home. Finally, I said, “Sorry, but I have to go now, I’m already late for my bus.” Then Zina said, “Alex, could you do me a favour, please? I know you’re in a hurry, but for the sake of the good times between us, don’t refuse. Come with me to an office—it’s really important to me, and I can’t go alone.” Of course, I agreed, but said, “As long as it’s quick!” We entered a large building and wandered from wing to wing, up and down staircases. I thought it took maybe fifteen minutes. People of all ages passed us—children, pensioners, everyone in between. I didn’t wonder why kids or old folks would be in an admin building; all my thoughts were with Zina. At some point, she slipped into a room and closed the door behind her. Before shutting it, she gave me a look—as if saying goodbye—and murmured, “How strange, I couldn’t be with you… but I couldn’t be without you, either.” I stood outside, waiting for her to return. I wanted to ask what she’d meant by those words. But she didn’t come back. Suddenly, I snapped out of it. I realised I absolutely had to catch my bus, and here I was, running late! Looking around nervously, I was terrified. The building was derelict—gaping holes where windows once were. There weren’t even stairs anymore, just scattered floorboards, down which I carefully picked my way. I missed my bus by a whole hour and had to buy a ticket for a later one. When I bought my new ticket, I was told that the earlier coach I’d missed had crashed into the river. No one survived. Two weeks later, I was standing at my former mother-in-law’s doorstep, having tracked her down. Mrs. Allen told me that Zina had died eleven years ago, a year after our divorce. I didn’t believe her—thought maybe she was just protecting her daughter from my jealous obsession all over again. But when I asked to be shown Zina’s grave, she surprised me by agreeing. A few hours later, I stood by a headstone, looking at the photo of the woman I’d loved my whole life—the woman who, in some impossible way, had just saved it. (Adapted Original Title:) My First Wife: A Spooky Encounter in London that Saved My Life Twelve Years After Our Divorce

So, this all happened a couple of years back. Id been away for work for a whilethe project was just about wrapped up and soon I was heading home to Sheffield. Id already bought my coach ticket, and since I still had a good three hours to kill, I thought Id have a wander around the city.

Thats when I ran into someone I never expected to seemy first wife. Her names Emily, and the funny thing is, she honestly looked exactly as I remembered her, except maybe her face seemed a tad paler. I think bumping into each other caught us both off guard; I could tell she was just as rattled as I was.

You know, Id loved her more than I could handlepainfully so. Thats actually why we split up. My jealousy was out of control, honestly. Id get twitchy if she was even five minutes late, convinced something must be going on. I even managed to get jealous of her own mum, if you can believe that! I just worked myself up over nothing, constantly bombarding her with questions about where shed been and who shed seen.

In the end, Emily couldnt take it anymore. One day, I came home from work with a little puppywas planning to surprise her, make her smile. But when I walked in, the flat was empty and there was only a note on the table. She told me she still loved me, but the constant suspicion had worn her down. She apologised, asked me not to look for hersaid she just couldnt go on that way.

Now, twelve years after we parted ways, I bump into her totally by chance, right here in a city I dont even live in. We got to talking for ages, getting swept up in memory lane, and then I suddenly realised I was about to miss my coach back home.

I went to say, Sorry, Emily, Ive really got to dash. My bus is about to leave.

And then she said, all quietly, James, could you do me a big favour? I know youre in a hurry, but just this oncefor old times sake, dont say no. I need to pop into an office nearby; its important, but I cant go in on my own. Obviously, I agreed, but told her wed have to be quick.

So, we went into this big old buildinglooked like some kind of council or admin place. We walked through corridors, up and down stairs, crossing from one side to the other. I thought it took maybe fifteen minutes at the most. Everywhere we went, people were passing bykids, pensioners, all sorts. It never once crossed my mind to wonder what children and the elderly were doing milling about in an office block; I was so focused on Emily.

After a bit, Emily stepped through a doorway and turned to look at me just before she closed it behind her. The way she looked at me it was kind of like she was saying goodbye. She said, Funny, isnt it? I could never be with you, but never truly be without you either.

I stood by the door, waiting for her to come back out, wanting to ask what she meant. But she never did. Then, it was like I snapped awakeI suddenly realised I was running late for the coach! I turned around, and thats when things started to seem off. The building was completely deserted. Windows were just dark holes, no glass. There werent any stairs, just broken boards lying about. I had to pick my way down, carefully. By the time I got back to the station, my bus had left over an hour ago and I had to shell out for another ticket.

When I finally got on the new coach, the ticket lady mentioned the earlier bus had crashed into a river on the way out of town. No one survived.

Two weeks later, I managed to track down Emilys mum, Margaret, through an address service. She invited me in and, after a cup of tea, told me Emily had passed away eleven years agoa year after wed broken up. I was numb; couldnt believe it. At first I thought maybe her mum was trying to put me off, worried my old obsession had returned.

But when I asked to see Emilys grave, Margaret agreed. Not a word of complaint, just picked up her bag and off we went to the cemetery. A couple of hours later, I was standing by a headstone, and there she wasEmily, smiling at me from the photo, just the way Id always remembered. I cant explain it, but somehow, shed found a way to save me, one last time.