They Buried an Empty Coffin and My Best Friend Took My Husband

by Mira Lang

I came home after three years and my best friend answered my door wearing my ring. My husband's face wasn't shock. It was recognition.

For three years I was a Jane Doe in a hospital on the Portuguese coast with a broken face and no name. At home they held a funeral over an empty coffin, collected two million dollars, and moved on. When I finally rang my own doorbell, my best friend answered it wearing my ring, and my four-year-old daughter called her Mummy. My husband looked at me across the hallway and he did not look shocked — he looked caught. And the death certificate that let them bury me was signed by a doctor at the clinic where I was lying unconscious.

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