Beyond the Physical

Everything that happens in our daily lives feels beyond coincidence. I often sense a strange hand pulling the strings behind events—an unseen force that no one can explain. There’s no evidence to prove there’s a higher realm beyond the world we live in, except the holy book written by a man no one knows or has seen, or even has proof existed.

I had convinced myself that unless there was solid evidence of a higher realm, I would continue to believe that we humans are the only supernatural beings in existence.

Until one day. A day all my questions were answered.

Just like every other day, I was coming back from work, tired and hungry. I stopped by my favorite restaurant to get a meal for the night. While paying, I met this handsome guy who offered to pay for my meal. For the first time in three years, I met a man who ticked all the boxes on my checklist. We exchanged contacts and started talking. He was rich and generous.

So many times, I wondered and asked what kind of work he did. He told me he was into business—an architect and a building contractor. The first year of dating him was a fairytale, a dream come true. I knew I had found my dream husband.

No matter how smitten I am with a man, I always stick to my rule: never, ever make yourself a mother for a man who is not yet your husband.

Throughout my one year of dating Silas, I made sure my birth control pills were taken on time. A month after our one-year anniversary, I discovered I was pregnant.

How was that possible? I had no idea, because I was sure I never missed my pills—not even for a day.

I checked the pill bottle to see if it had expired, but no—it still had two years of shelf life left. I panicked. I was shocked and scared, knowing my rule had been broken, something that should never have happened.

My first intention was to get rid of it before Silas found out, but then I decided against it—because we were both partially responsible for the fetus. I called him to meet up at my place at night, which was usually when I got home from work.

I returned from work, tired and unusually strained, only to find my perfect boyfriend in my kitchen making my favorite meal. Seeing him there made me giddy in the sweetest way, but at the same time, I dreaded the conversation we were going to have after that delicious dinner.

Some men tend to flip whenever there’s a baby discussion—especially one that wasn’t planned. So I was determined to have the conversation and get it over with.

He looked at me with those starlight eyes of his while he served my food. He was extra careful that day, like I was an egg ready to break if not handled with care. Honestly, I loved the attention and how he just seemed to get things right with me.

Sometimes, I felt like this wasn’t real—just an illusion sent to punish me for wanting the perfect partner.

We ate our meal in the most comfortable way. He asked about my day, and it was kinda sweet to know he noticed and observed every little thing about me.

I enjoyed every bit of the meal with him.

“We need to talk,” I said, my eyes on his face as he calmly took a sip from his wine glass. I knew it was time.

“I am pregnant.”

I said it without stuttering, but my mind was spinning and creating a million scenarios. I knew if it came to the worst, I would abort the fetus and continue my life as a single woman until the perfect man came around. I was financially comfortable, but not enough to raise a child on my own—and I hated the idea of dragging a man who didn’t want it in the first place to take responsibility.

While these thoughts were flooding my mind, I’ll never forget the joy in his eyes. It was so contagious I couldn’t help but smile too.

I had never seen him so happy. But I had seen that kind of happiness before. It’s the joy of finally achieving something you’ve long desired and repeatedly been denied. The joy is inexplicable. That was what I saw in him. But in another moment, I saw sadness.

I couldn’t place it, but I knew what I saw.

Although I wanted to ask him if what I saw was true, the beauty of the moment made me stop. I didn’t want to spoil it.

Five months of our daily lives went by quickly, now with a pregnancy in between. I was heavier than usual. We both went to get an ultrasound and discovered we were having twins. He was ecstatic, and I couldn’t have been happier—I'd always wanted twins for my first birth, and I was getting them.

One busy morning, Silas told me he was going for a business supervision, and I kissed him goodbye as usual. He made sure to drop me off at work since I couldn’t drive with my belly at seven months.

Four hours into work, I felt an uncomfortable pain in my belly. I assumed it was the normal kind of pain that came with pregnancy, until I went for a bathroom break and saw spotting in my pants. Scared, I took the day off and rushed to get medical help.

At the hospital, I was told to wait in the lounge until my turn. As I waited, I noticed that while some pregnant women were accompanied by their husbands, others had an elderly person, and a few were alone—like me. That was when I remembered something important: I had never seen or spoken to Silas’ mother. Even though he mentioned her sometimes, I had never met her.

I made a mental note to ask him to invite his mother over when he returned.

After my visit, the gynecologist assured me it was nothing serious, so I returned home.

Silas came back that night looking exhausted, and I knew it wasn’t the time to ask about his mother. I was mentally drained, and he was physically exhausted. I decided to wait till morning.

The following day, as Silas was driving me to work, I brought it up. I asked him to invite his mom so we could get to know each other before I officially became their daughter-in-law.

He went quiet, then told me his parents were overseas and would be around two weeks before our wedding.

My aunt, from my mother’s side, knew all about Silas and had even spoken to him on video call many times. So, I felt it was only fair if I could also speak to his mother. But I figured he had his reasons, so I let it go.

Life went on just the way I wished. I applied for maternity leave and it was granted in my eighth month. I was heavier, couldn’t bend too much, and certain tasks were off limits. It was hectic, but every moment was worth it.

One day, as I sat in the living room picking out decorations for the babies’ room, Silas came in and told me he had to travel for an inspection project that would take three months. I wanted to ask him to delegate it, seeing how tired he’d been, but as a company lawyer, I knew what it meant to violate a contract. So, I let him go.

He packed his bags three days later. When he hugged and kissed me goodbye, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was losing him. I didn’t want him to leave. It felt like the last time I’d see him—but I told myself it was just the pregnancy hormones.

After he left, I couldn’t stop crying.

Before leaving, Silas had hired a house help to assist me, and she was a great help.

We kept in touch regularly, but with just a week and three days left till his return, I hadn’t heard from him in four days. Then, I went into labor.

The labor was hard—far worse than I imagined. I had mentally prepared for 24 hours of pain, but this was beyond that. My aunt had to fly in to be with me after 72 hours of hard labor with no results.

My fiancé was nowhere to be found. His calls weren’t going through. My whole body was on fire.

I begged the doctor for a cesarean, but he refused, saying I had developed severe coagulopathy in the last two months of my pregnancy and surgery wasn’t an option.

My aunt ran around seeking second opinions, while I stayed in excruciating pain.

After five days of labor, with broken bones and a broken spirit, the twins still appeared perfectly comfortable in the womb—despite my water having broken five days earlier.

Two more days passed before the twins finally came out. My aunt cried uncontrollably seeing that I was alright, and the twins were healthy.

I didn’t shed a tear. It was like the pain had drained them all. But I was relieved.

I asked my aunt if Silas had called. The answer was no. I was angry, scared, confused. I didn’t know any of his friends.

My blood pressure spiked and the doctor recommended two days of bed rest before discharge.

I was eventually discharged and returned home with my twins and aunt.

Five months passed. Still no word from Silas. Until one afternoon, as I breastfed my babies, the doorbell rang. My aunt went to get it.

And there stood a man who looked just like Silas—but shorter. He introduced himself as Silas’ younger brother.

I was furious but composed enough to ask the question that had haunted me for six months.

“Where is Silas?”

He sat down.

“Silas had an accident two years ago and was in a coma until six months ago.”

“What do you mean? That’s not possible. I’ve been with Silas for almost two years,” I snapped.

He didn’t flinch.

He went on to explain the whole situation—how Silas had been in a coma after an accident, then woke up briefly six months ago and asked to see his lawyer. Three days later, he died.

I refused to believe him.

Until he showed me pictures of Silas in the hospital and his death certificate.

Still, as a lawyer, I knew such documents could be forged.

Then he said something more shocking:

Silas had left a will. He’d given his company to his wife to manage until their two children were old enough to inherit it. No one knew who this wife or these children were—until now.

He also requested that no one contact me or bury him until five months after his death.

And that’s why his brother was here.

He said, even he didn’t understand how it was possible—how twins were conceived while Silas was supposedly in a coma.

So, he insisted on a DNA test.

I agreed.

Blood samples were taken.

Three days later, the results came back.

Silas was the father of my babies.

His brother was shocked. I was speechless.

He picked up the twins and looked at them.

“They have his eyes,” he said. “They need to say goodbye to their father. And you have to be there too.”

That’s when it hit me: I had dated a man who was neither dead nor alive. Now, I had to attend his burial.

My aunt, who was staying with me, was just as confused and torn between dream and reality as I was.

Three days later, I prepared to face that reality—Silas’ burial. His brother arrived with his car to take us to their home, but I insisted on going in my own car. My aunt, ever supportive, accompanied me, regardless of where this man might be taking us.

True to his word, we arrived at a beautiful estate. One look at the decorations and arrangements, and I knew without a doubt—this was Silas’ place.

We went inside, and I saw two elderly people who I assumed were his parents. They were both so beautiful, which explained Silas’ own striking looks.

They stood up to welcome me warmly and lovingly took the twins into their arms, while I looked around and saw Silas’ pictures on the wall.

Deep down, I still hoped this wasn’t real. I hoped I wasn’t here for Silas’ burial.

His parents told me everything, leaving out no detail. Their story matched exactly what his younger brother had told me.

Now, I was truly hooked—scared and still hoping this was a dream I’d soon wake up from.

The following morning, everyone dressed in mourning clothes—except me. I wore a white gown with gold stripes. We all drove to the burial site that would become Silas’ final resting place.

The casket was brought forward, and it was opened for all to see him one last time.

And there he was.

I saw my Silas, lying peacefully in that casket. No expression. No sadness. No love. Nothing.

I remembered that calm look he always had while sleeping—something I once thought was cute. Now, it wasn’t cute anymore.

The tears I had been holding back for all those months since his disappearance came rushing out like water from a broken dam.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, pulling me in for comfort. I knew it was my aunt. Still, the tears kept coming.

I didn’t care that he had been neither fully alive nor dead when we were together. I just wanted the love he gave me. I wanted the protection and warmth his presence offered. I wanted all of him.

And now, all I could see was his lifeless body being lowered into the grave.

Yes, I never believed in the supernatural realm. But whatever happened to me—this whole experience—was beyond the physical. It was more spiritual than I ever imagined.

And till today, I still wonder how it happened.