Chapter 6
“What do you mean by that?” Caleb froze, his sharp mind already piecing together the implications, yet refusing to accept them,
Sensing his disbelief, his assistant repeated the words slowly, each syllable slicing through
the silence.
I watched as Caleb’s pupils contracted. His usually sharp gaze turned blank like a man caught in a nightmare he couldn’t wake from.
Beside him, Emily’s mood was visibly brightened, though she made a weak attempt to conceal it. She slipped her arm around his, her voice dripping with faux sympathy,
“Caleb, this is just her fate. Maybe it’s time to let go.”
“Let go?” Caleb’s voice cracked, a sudden snarl tearing through the air. “This is just another one of Grace’s twisted games. She wouldn’t dare die. She wouldn’t have the guts.”
It was the first time I had ever seen him snap at her, and Emily flinched, her face turning pale as she instinctively stepped back.
Her eyes filled with tears, the corners of her mouth trembling “Caleb, do you still have feelings for her? Is that why you’re reacting like this?”
Caleb turned, intent on leaving, but she grabbed his arm, her voice growing more
desperate.
“You said you didn’t love her. So what are you afraid of now? Grace is dead, Caleb. We can finally be together without her in the way!”
His steps abruptly halted. He turned back, eyes blazing, his jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscles twitch beneath his skin.
“Shut up!” he snapped, his tone cold and final. “I said Grace isn’t dead, and that means
she’s not.”
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This time, he didn’t bother to console her. He yanked his arm free and stormed out the door, not sparing her a second glance.
I drifted along behind him, a bitter smile tugging at my ghostly lips.
‘Shouldn’t he be relieved now that I’m gone? Why, then, does he look anything but happy?‘
Instead of heading to the hospital, Caleb drove straight back to our old house.
He stepped inside, his shoes scuffing the dust–coated floors. The air was thick and stale, as if the walls themselves had forgotten the warmth of human presence.
Caleb glanced around, his eyes settling on the thin layer of dust blanketing the furniture, the once–vibrant space now hollow and abandoned. For the first time, it seemed, he realized just how long it had been since I last set foot here.
With a shuddering sigh, he sank onto the couch, his head dropping into his hands. After a long moment, he pulled out his phone and typed a message, his thumb hovering over the
send button.
“Grace, you win this time. Just come back. I promise I’ll let everything go. Just… come
back.”
His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps as his bloodshot eyes fixed intently on the screen when he hit send. Message after message, each one growing more desperate, more pleading, filled the chat log.
I watched as he slumped against the wall, caught between fury and heartbreak. His body
folded in on itself like a man defeated.
Finally, when his messages went unanswered, he shoved the phone into his pocket and staggered out the door, his movements frantic and unsteady.
Moments later, he was speeding down the highway, the tires of his sleek black car screaming against the pavement as he raced towards the hospital.
The sterile white walls and fluorescent lights seemed to close in around him as he burst
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through the hospital’s entrance. A nurse tried to stop him, asking a few routine questions, but he shoved past her, his shouts echoing down the stark, empty corridors.
Then, finally, he reached the morgue.
I hovered at his side as a doctor carefully slid my cold, lifeless body out from the wall of
metal drawers.
I hadn’t seen myself like this before, and the sight was horrifying.
My once bright, flushed skin was now a sickly, swollen yellow. My limbs hung stiffly at my sides, my stomach stitched up with thick, angry sutures. My face, bloated and mottled,
barely resembled the person I had been.
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Caleb’s eyes roamed over my body, inch by inch, his usually sharp, calculating gaze now glassy and unfocused. His lower lip trembled, a hint of red creeping into the corners of his
eyes.
“Mrs. Horton’s death was due to massive blood loss during a combined emergency C- section and kidney transplant surgery,” the doctor explained quietly, standing a respectful
distance away.
Caleb stumbled back a step, his mind reeling. I could almost see the memories flashing behind his eyes–my frantic attempts to reach him, the countless missed calls, the nurses
he brushed past without a second thought.
“Again, my condolences,” the doctor added, his voice low and steady. “Please make arrangements for the body as soon as possible.”
As the doctor moved to wheel my body back into the cold, unfeeling metal drawer, Caleb suddenly lunged forward, grabbing the edge of the gurney with a death grip.
His voice breaking, he choked out, “Grace, wake up. This isn’t funny. Stop messing with
me.”
He bent down, cradling my icy, lifeless form against his chest, his tears splashing onto my bloodless, sallow skin.
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It was the first time I had ever seen him cry, the first time I had ever seen him shatter in front of someone else.
And the cruelest irony?
He did it after my death. It was too late.
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