The next morning, the air in the house was heavy with unspoken resolve. Over breakfast, Will and Stacy sat at the kitchen table, the remnants of their conversations from the previous days lingering in the silence between them. Finally, Will broke it.
“We have to do it,” he said, staring at his coffee mug. “We have to file a missing person report.”
Stacy nodded slowly. “I know. But… are you sure you’re ready?”
Will took a deep breath, his hands tightening around the mug. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. But this isn’t just about me anymore. If we don’t report it, people will start asking questions. My work, my family… It’ll get worse the longer we wait.”
Stacy reached across the table, resting her hand on his. “Okay. We’ll do it. Together.”
“No,” Will said firmly, looking up at her. “It has to be me. It’s me who’s gone missing. It feels… wrong, somehow, to let you do it.”
Stacy hesitated, then nodded. “Alright. But you won’t be alone. I’ll wait for you outside.”
A few hours later, Will stood outside a small, nondescript police station in the neighboring town, his heart pounding in his borrowed chest. Stacy’s clothes fit him perfectly—of course they did—but he felt like an imposter nonetheless. The makeup Stacy had carefully applied earlier that morning made him look even more like her, and it unsettled him to see how easily he passed as her.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and walked through the door.
Inside, the station was quiet, with only a few officers milling about. Will approached the front desk, his hands trembling slightly. A young officer looked up from his paperwork, offering a polite smile. “Can I help you, ma’am?”
The word “ma’am” made Will flinch inwardly, but he forced a smile. “Yes, I… I’d like to file a missing person report.”
“Of course,” the officer said, pulling out a form. “Can you tell me who’s missing?”
Will swallowed hard, the words catching in his throat. “It’s… my husband,” he said finally, the words sounding strange and surreal. “Will Reynolds.”
The officer nodded, his pen poised. “And when was the last time you saw him?”
“About four days ago,” Will replied, his voice steady despite the surreal absurdity of the situation. He felt like he was watching himself from a distance, like this was all some bad dream he couldn’t wake up from.
“And has he gone missing before?” the officer asked, his tone professional but sympathetic.
“No,” Will said quickly. “This is… this is the first time.”
The questions continued, each one driving home the bizarre reality of what he was doing. Will answered as honestly as he could without raising suspicion, but every word felt like a blow. He was describing himself, painting a picture of the man he used to be—a man who, in the eyes of the world, had simply vanished.
When the report was finally filed, the officer handed him a card. “We’ll do everything we can to locate him, Mrs. Reynolds. If you think of anything else, please don’t hesitate to reach out.”
“Thank you,” Will murmured, clutching the card as he turned to leave. The officer’s kindness only made the whole experience feel more surreal.
Outside, Stacy was waiting near the car, her arms crossed. When she saw him, she straightened, her eyes scanning his face for any sign of how it had gone.
“How was it?” she asked gently as he approached.
Will let out a shaky laugh, holding up the card. “Well, I’ve officially filed a missing person report… on myself.”
Stacy’s expression softened, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. “You did it. That’s a big step.”
“It didn’t feel like it,” Will admitted, his voice trembling. “It felt… wrong. Like I was erasing myself.”
“You’re not,” Stacy said firmly. “You’re doing what you have to do. And we’ll figure out the rest, I promise.”
Will nodded, though the ache in his chest remained.
