A Day Late

My husband is dead. But he is still sending me WeChat messages. He said he was working overtime today and asked me to heat up the ribs by myself, and his tone was "I'll be back in a minute" in a matter-of-fact tone. It's something a living person would say. But he had been lying in the box for three days. I asked him what day it was. He laughed and scolded me for being stupid - it was July 25th for him and it was 26th for me. His time is one day slower than mine. He lives in my yesterday, and the garbage truck that killed him was hit by me three days ago. I called him in advance to take a detour, and he survived. I thought I won. But my face is getting paler day by day, and I can reach through the wall of a cup with my hand. What's even more frightening is that he said, "Thankfully you stopped me that day" - but I looked through the records and I clearly let him go that day. On the same day, I tried my best to block him on his side, but let him go quietly on my side. One of us must be fake. Until he dreamed that I was standing across the road calling him, and no matter how hard he ran, he couldn't catch me. Who is the one who is a day late? Who was the person I bumped into at that intersection on July 23rd?