I Personally Cremated My Husband Chapter 01
My husband, Special Forces Captain Galen Hickson, came back from his last mission in a coma. A few days later, he was declared brain-dead.
In my first life, I never left his side. I fought to keep him on life support, right up until the day he woke up, shoved me down a flight of stairs, and killed me.
In my second life, I knew better. I put in for a military transfer, but on my way out of town, he plowed his car head-on into mine.
As I lay bleeding out in the wreckage, I asked him why. He just looked at me, his face twisted in disgust. “Your father is a general, and he forced Rosa and me apart,” he told me. “That’s on you. The only way Rosa and I get to be together—while I keep my perks as the general’s son-in-law—is if you’re out of the picture.”
That was when I realized murder had been the plan all along.
Now, standing in this hospital room for the third time, listening to the official notice of Galen’s brain death, I looked straight at his attending physician—Dr. Rosalia Lytton.
I didn’t miss a beat. “In that case, go ahead and issue the death certificate. With his service record, a Distinguished Service Cross nomination shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll invite the top brass to the funeral and make sure he gets the high-profile military burial he deserves.”
Galen wanted to fake his death. This time, I was going to make sure he stayed dead.
***
The color immediately drained from Rosalia’s face. She sidestepped in front of the bed, physically blocking my view of Galen. “Ma’am, I need you to stay calm. He might be brain-dead, but we can keep his vitals going on life support. As long as there’s even a fraction of a chance he could recover, we doctors don’t give up.”
I watched her play the deeply concerned physician and felt nothing but pure contempt.
It was a hell of an act.
In my first life, I bought her lies and kept Galen on the machines.
The punchline?
Galen wasn’t dying!
He and Rosalia—his first love—had been in on it together from the start. He’d taken a specialized drug to tank his vitals, orchestrating a highly calculated stunt to slip out of our marriage consequence-free.
Once he was discharged and made a miraculous recovery, the very first thing he did was push me down a flight of stairs, breaking my neck and killing me.
After all, who suspected a guy just coming out of a coma of murder?
He got off scot-free. Playing the grieving widower, he milked my father’s pity to fast-track his own military promotions.
Remembering the absolute agony my dad went through burying his own daughter made my chest tighten with pain and hatred for Galen. This time, I wasn’t giving them an inch.
“That won’t be necessary,” I said, my voice dead level. “My husband died in the line of duty, and the medical facts are clear. I’m authorizing the death certificate right now, and I’ll handle the paperwork for his posthumous honors.”
Rosalia froze, scrambling to paste on a look of sympathetic disapproval. “I understand your grief, but withdrawing care so suddenly is a drastic measure. He’s young. His body might bounce back. You’re his wife—don’t you want to give him every possible chance?”
She hit the word “wife” hard, clearly trying to paint me as cold and heartless.
I let out a dry, mocking laugh. “It sounds like this hospital needs to audit its basic medical training. Brain death—the irreversible loss of all brain and brainstem function—is legal death. Recovery isn’t just unlikely; it’s biologically impossible.
“As a doctor, why are you dangling false hope in front of a grieving family when your patient is already gone? What exactly is your endgame here?” I turned my back on her ashen face. “Turn the machines off. Now. My husband was a soldier who died serving his country. He deserves to go out with dignity, not be kept artificially alive in a hospital bed.”
Faced with the raw medical facts and a widow who wasn’t backing down, the hospital administration finally gave in. Rosalia just stood there, paralyzed, her eyes wide with mounting panic as the nurses stepped up to pull the plug.
I was quietly smoothing out the creases in Galen’s uniform when the door to the hospital room clicked open. Led by the General, half a dozen senior officers filed in—including a Lieutenant General and a Major General. Their faces were dead serious.
General Lawrence Ratcliff’s voice was heavy with sorrow. “Delia, please take care of yourself right now. Galen was a good soldier. The military will handle all the funeral arrangements.”
I looked up at him. My cheeks were dry; I was completely resolute. “Sir, as Galen’s wife, I’d like to formally submit him for a Distinguished Service Cross, and I’m requesting a full-honors military funeral.”
The room went dead silent. They hadn’t expected me to be this calm, let alone swallow my grief long enough to start talking logistics.
Rosalia immediately stepped out from the corner, practically buzzing with anxiety. “Ma’am, I know you’re grieving, but awarding medals is a decision for the military!”
I knew exactly why she was panicking. Once the government officially declared him a casualty of war, Galen’s death would be legally cemented. It would completely blow up whatever she and Galen had planned.
I ignored her completely. Looking straight into the officers’ eyes, I laid out, point by point, the exact service record and achievements that qualified Galen for the award.
The men’s expressions shifted from surprise to solemnity, and finally, to quiet agreement.
“Delia, you’re right. We hadn’t thought this through,” Lieutenant General David Simonds said, his voice firm. “We absolutely need to put him in for this!”
Lawrence gave a slow nod, looking at me with obvious admiration. “To stay this composed, Delia, and fight for the honors your husband earned at a time like this… Galen was lucky to have you.”
The other officers murmured in agreement, their eyes filled with respect.
Rosalia was completely boxed out. Without a leg to stand on, she just stood there helplessly while the officers approved my award request and finalized the funeral arrangements right then and there.