The Echo Wife

BY WAQID ALI

The Echo Wife

Mara woke up on a cold concrete floor, copper on her tongue and a pounding headache. The last thing she remembered was arguing with Daniel in the kitchen. She wanted to go back to work. He had given her that calm, terrifying smile and said, “We’ll talk later, love.”

There was no kitchen now. Only dim yellow light, damp air, and the constant low hum of a generator somewhere in the walls.

She sat up slowly, her body aching, and froze.

Three women stared back at her — identical in every way. Same long black hair, same freckle above the left eyebrow, same pale scar on her wrist from the car accident three years ago.

But their eyes told different stories.

“Welcome, Number Six,” the angry one sneered, arms tightly folded. “Took you long enough to join the party.”

“What is this?” Mara whispered, her voice shaking.

The oldest-looking one stepped forward with quiet sadness in her eyes. “I’m Mara-Three. He replaces us when we become… inconvenient. Too loud. Too emotional. Too independent. He can’t stand anything less than perfection.”

Mara’s stomach dropped. “Replaced?”

The smiling one in the corner tilted her head unnaturally. “He’s a brilliant neuroscientist. He grows new versions of us in his lab downstairs. Each one is supposed to be better. More obedient. More quiet.”

Mara laughed nervously, hysteria rising in her throat. “This is a nightmare. I’ll wake up any second now.”

“You already did,” said Mara-Four, the angry one. “Six times.”

They showed her the metal table in the corner. Six wedding rings engraved with the same date. Six driver’s licenses. Old phones. And photographs — Daniel smiling proudly beside women who looked exactly like her.

Mara-Five, the calmest, spoke gently. “He’s been doing this for four years. He once told me love is just brain patterns. When the pattern breaks, he simply rewrites it.”

Mara felt sick. “How many times has he killed me?”

“Six,” Mara-Three replied. “You lasted the longest — almost eleven months.”

A heavy silence filled the basement.

Mara-Four punched the concrete wall. “We kill him tonight when he brings dinner. Simple and clean.”

“And then what?” Mara-Five asked. “Five identical women? The world will think we’re monsters.”

Mara-Two giggled softly. “Or we can go back upstairs and be good this time. He does love us… in his own way.”

Mara’s mind spun. She remembered Daniel’s gentle kisses on her forehead, his protective arms around her at night, the way he made her feel safe and cherished. Now she understood every sweet moment had been a test. Every disagreement, a death sentence.

The other Maras watched her, waiting for her decision.

Mara-Three asked softly, “What do you want, Six?”

Mara closed her eyes. She pictured the beautiful house upstairs. The man she once loved. Then she pictured waking up again in this nightmare as Mara-Seven.

When she opened her eyes, her voice was cold as ice.

“I want him to feel what we felt.”

That night, the basement door opened. Daniel came down the stairs carrying a food tray. He stopped dead when he saw five identical women standing in the shadows.

Mara, the newest, stepped forward and gave him the gentle smile he had always given her.

“Hi, honey,” she said sweetly. “We need to talk about our marriage.”

Daniel’s face turned ghostly white. For the first time, real fear filled his eyes.

As the five Maras slowly moved toward him, they whispered in perfect unison, their voices echoing off the walls:

“You always said you’d love me forever.”

BY WAQID ALI BAJAUR tangy shah