Days Rumors: Abigail resurrected on her 4th death anniversary, could it be true

The latest buzz swirling through Salem isn’t just another passing whisper—it’s the kind of long-brewing, calendar-marked storm that longtime viewers of Days of Our Lives know all too well. As the four-year anniversary of Abigail Deveraux’s death approaches, fans and in-universe chaos alike are circling the same question: is this really just another memorial… or the setup for yet another impossible return?

Because in Salem, “gone forever” has never exactly meant forever.

The timing alone feels suspicious. Four years have passed since Abigail Deveraux’s supposed death rocked everyone connected to her, especially Chad DiMera, who has been left navigating grief, uncertainty, and emotional whiplash ever since. Now, as June rolls back around, everything feels like it’s tightening into place again—like the story never actually stopped moving, just paused long enough for everyone to forget how close they are to reopening old wounds.

And right on cue, familiar faces are resurfacing.

One of the most talked-about developments is the return of Jack Deveraux, portrayed once again with emotional weight and uneasy timing by Matthew Ashford. Jack’s arrival in Salem never comes quietly, but this time his presence feels especially loaded. Instead of immediately reuniting with family in a straightforward way, he’s drawn toward Gwen Rizczech—a decision that has already set off alarm bells among viewers.

Gwen is not exactly a neutral party in the Deveraux family’s history. Her past entanglements, betrayals, and emotional wreckage involving Abigail make her an unexpected—and frankly unsettling—person for Jack to consult right now. Yet that’s exactly what’s happening. And naturally, speculation has exploded: is Jack trying to use Gwen as a bridge to uncover what really happened to his daughter? Or is he simply grasping at any lead, no matter how emotionally complicated or risky?

That question leads straight back to the central mystery that has never fully been resolved: Abigail’s missing body.

Because fans remember.

Two years ago, the storyline escalated in a way that felt like it should have been definitive. Jack and Chad exhumed Abigail’s grave, only to discover it empty. Not disturbed. Not partial. Completely empty. A void where closure should have been. That moment, which should have delivered answers, instead created more questions—and the show leaned hard into ambiguity.

Was she moved? Was she never there? Was someone deliberately misleading them?

The infamous DNA testing arc that followed only added confusion rather than clarity, leaving viewers questioning not just the results, but the logic behind the investigation itself. Even now, the scientific explanations from that period feel hazy, almost intentionally so—like the story was built to keep uncertainty alive rather than resolve it.

Around that same time, a new figure entered Salem’s orbit: Cat Greene. Her arrival was framed with mystery, charm, and just enough emotional distance to make her impossible to fully read. Chad DiMera’s immediate connection with her only intensified suspicion, especially given how closely his grief over Abigail lingered beneath every interaction.

Cat’s presence has since become one of the emotional fault lines of this entire storyline. Some viewers see her as a red herring, others as a catalyst. But either way, she’s undeniably tied into the larger tension: the feeling that Abigail’s story is not finished, even if the show insists otherwise.

And then there’s Clyde Weston.

If there is one constant in Salem chaos, it’s Clyde Weston’s ability to survive narrative destruction. Whether imprisoned, injured, or written into apparent dead ends, he always reappears in some form. Right now, however, he is technically incapacitated—lying in a hospital coma, effectively paused in place like a storyline waiting for activation.

But even in this state, suspicion clings to him. Many believe Clyde knows exactly what happened to Abigail’s body. Some think he moved it. Others think he arranged for it to disappear entirely through intermediaries. Either way, he remains the most obvious living thread connecting the past mystery to the present uncertainty.

Still, he can’t answer anything right now.

Which leaves the narrative vacuum wide open for speculation—and that vacuum is exactly what EJ DiMera seems to be orbiting.

EJ has become the center of the most dramatic theory circulating among fans: that Abigail Deveraux may not be dead at all, but instead preserved somewhere hidden, potentially through experimental methods tied to the DiMera family’s long history of unethical science.

It sounds extreme, but in Salem, extremity is almost a requirement for plausibility.

The theory suggests that EJ, driven by jealousy, obsession, and emotional manipulation within the DiMera family dynamic, may have discovered Abigail’s body and chosen not only to conceal it—but to preserve it. Not out of compassion, but out of strategy. The motivation, according to the rumor mill, would be less about Abigail herself and more about controlling outcomes involving Chad DiMera and Cat Greene.

In this version of events, Abigail is allegedly kept in some form of stasis—whether cryogenic, medically suspended, or enhanced by one of Dr. Wilhelm Rolf’s recurring experimental breakthroughs. The DiMera estate, after all, has a long history of hidden labs, secret chambers, and scientific impossibilities disguised as narrative convenience.

If this theory holds any water, then Abigail’s return wouldn’t just be a resurrection—it would be a planned disruption.

A timed re-entry into Salem designed to detonate Chad’s emotional stability precisely when he begins to move forward.

The imagined scenario writes itself in typical Salem fashion: on the anniversary of her death, when grief is at its peak and memorials are underway, doors open unexpectedly. A figure emerges. Familiar. Believed lost. Impossible.

Abigail.

Whether alive, revived, or something altered by experimental intervention, her return would instantly destabilize every relationship currently forming around Chad, especially his connection with Cat. It would also throw Jack Deveraux into another cycle of hope and disbelief, forcing him to reconcile years of grief with an outcome he may not be prepared to process.

But with that possibility comes another concern: what version of Abigail would return?

Soap history is full of memory loss, identity shifts, altered personalities, and psychological fragmentation. So even if Abigail came back physically intact, there’s no guarantee she would return as the same person. That opens another layer of speculation—one where Abigail could awaken with distorted memories, emotional confusion, or even misplaced attachment toward the wrong people.

That possibility alone has sparked heated discussion among fans, especially those invested in Chad and Abigail’s long-standing relationship. The idea that she could return altered—or worse, emotionally disconnected from him—feels almost more disruptive than death itself.

Still, there is also the opposite fear: that none of this is real at all.

That the empty grave, the missing body, and the layered speculation are all part of an extended misdirection. That the truth may be far simpler—or far more disappointing—than the theories suggest. Some viewers suspect a mask reveal scenario, a recurring trope in Salem storytelling where identities are swapped at the last possible moment to reset tension without delivering permanent answers.

And that possibility has its own backlash. After years of buildup, fans are wary of another reveal that turns emotional stakes into illusion.

Meanwhile, Salem law enforcement remains predictably ineffective in the background. Rafe Hernandez continues to operate within a system that seems permanently understaffed, reactive rather than preventative. The idea that a body could go missing, remain unaccounted for, and never trigger lasting accountability is just another accepted absurdity in this world.

But that absurdity is also what keeps the story alive.

Because despite frustration, confusion, and exhaustion, the narrative gravity around Abigail Deveraux has not faded. If anything, it has intensified with time. Every unresolved thread points back to her. Every returning character seems to orbit her absence. Every anniversary becomes less about remembrance and more about anticipation.

So as the fourth anniversary approaches, the question isn’t simply whether Abigail could return.

It’s whether Salem has been building toward that return all along—quietly, inconsistently, and deliberately buried beneath years of distraction.

If the theory proves true, and Abigail Deveraux does reappear, it won’t just be a resurrection. It will be a collapse of everything built in her absence.

And if it’s not true?

Then Salem will simply keep doing what it always does best: turning absence into story, and story into endless uncertainty.