Unmatched Wife: Not His To Claim Anymore novel Chapter 91

hapter 91

Chapter 91

MATTHEW

It looked exactly like Bianca. Same height, same build, same way of moving-

The woman disappeared around a corner before I could see her face clearly.

My hands were shaking. My chest felt tight.

That couldn’t have been her. Bianca was dead. I’d seen her death certificate, watched them cremate her body, scattered her ashes myself.

This was what Theo had experienced at the park. Seeing someone who looked similar and convincing yourself it was the person you’d lost. Grief playing tricks, making you see what you desperately wanted to see.

I sat back down heavily, pressing my palms against my eyes.

Get it together, Matthew. You’re seeing things that aren’t there.

“Daddy?” Theo’s voice was small. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, buddy. Just tired.”

But my heart was still racing, and I couldn’t shake the image of that woman’s profile. The way she’d moved had been so familiar, so achingly like Bianca that for a moment I’d been absolutely certain-

“Theo Morrison?”

I looked up to find a man in his early thirties standing in the waiting area doorway, wearing casual scrubs and an easy smile. His name tag read “Dr. James Wright, Pediatrics.”

“That’s us,” I said, standing and offering my hand. “Matthew Morrison. Thank you for seeing us on short notice.”

“No problemn at all. Dr. Fisher speaks highly of you both.” James crouched to Theo’s level. “Hey there, Theo. I’m Dr. Wright, but you can call me James if you want. Want to come see my office? I’ve got some pretty cool toys in there.”

Theo looked at me for confirmation, and I nodded. “It’s okay, buddy. I’ll be right there with you.”

As James straightened, I caught a scent that made my breath catch.

Perfume. Delicate and floral. The exact scent Bianca used to wear–a specific blend she’d had custom made because she was allergic to most commercial fragrances.

I must have made some sound because James looked at me questioningly.

“That perfume,” I said before I could stop myself. “What is that?”

James glanced down at his scrubs with a grimace. “Oh, yeah. A kid threw up on me earlier–hazard of pediatrics. One of my colleagues helped me change and sprayed some deodorant or something on me so I wouldn’t smell like vomit and chase everyone away. Why, is it bothering you? I can

“No,” I interrupted quickly. “No, it’s fine. Just–it smelled familiar. That’s all.”

But my mind was racing. A colleague had helped him change. A colleague who wore that specific perfume that I’d only ever

known Bianca to use.

That woman I’d seen in the hallway. The one who’d looked so much like Blanca.

What if-

Chapter 91

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No. Stop it. You’re being as irrational as Theo was at the park.

Bianca was dead. Whatever woman worked here who happened to look similar and wear similar perfume was just a coincidence. BloodMoon City had hundreds of doctors. It was just a coincidence one would share similarities with my wife.

I shook off the thoughts and followed James into his office, keeping my hand on Theo’s shoulder.

The office was warm and welcoming. Toys organized in bins, a small table with chairs sized for children, posters of cartoon characters on the walls.

“This is nice,” Theo admitted quietly, his eyes on a bin of action figures.

“Thanks. I try to make it not feel like a scary doctor’s office.” James settled into one of the small chairs with surprising grace. So Theo, Dr. Fisher told me you’ve been having a tough time lately. Want to tell me about it?”

Theo shot me an uncertain look.

“It’s okay,” I encouraged. “Dr. Wright is here to help, just like Dr. Fisher.”

“I

“My mama died,” Theo said, his voice very small. “And I thought I saw her at the park yesterday, but it wasn’t really her. It was someone else.”

James nodded seriously. “That must have been really confusing and sad.”

“It was.” Theo picked at the hem of his shirt. “Dad says my brain was playing tricks on me because I miss her so much.”

“Your dad’s right about that. Our brains do sometimes play tricks on us, especially when we’re missing someone really

important.” James pulled out a bin of toys. “Want to help me organize these while we talk? I’m terrible at keeping things sorted.

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It was a clever tactic–giving Theo something to do with his hands while they talked, making the conversation feel less like an interrogation.

For the next thirty minutes, James asked gentle questions while Theo sorted action figures by color. Questions about what he remembered from the park, how he’d felt when he realized the woman wasn’t his mother, what he did when he missed Bianca.

I sat quietly in the corner, watching my son open up to this stranger with surprising ease. James had a gift for making Theo feel heard without pushing him beyond his comfort zone.

Finally, James went ahead with some cognitive tests. All disguised as play, all designed to evaluate whether Theo’s grief had triggered any underlying developmental concerns.

Throughout it all, I couldn’t stop thinking about that scent. About the woman I’d seen in the hallway.

About the impossibility that kept whispering in the back of my mind: what it?

“Alright, Theo,” James said after about an hour. “You did awesome. Want to play with those action figures for a few minutes while I talk to your dad?”

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