Chapter 9
With Emily in handcuffs and the truth finally revealed, the chaos surrounding my death began to settle.
Caleb returned to our empty home that night, not bothering to turn on the lights. He stumbled into the living room, grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and started drinking in silence.
When the alcohol had dulled the edges of his mind just enough, he staggered into the bedroom, clutching my urn to his chest. I felt a strange, searing heat, like the weight of his tears could somehow reach me, even in death.
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After what felt like an eternity, his sobs quieted, and he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with a shaky hand. The smoke swirled around his haunted eyes, casting shadows
over his sharp, handsome features.
As he took a long drag, his gaze fell on my urn, and he froze.
“Damn it… I forgot you hate the smell of smoke,” he whispered, a bitter, broken smile tugging at his lips. He crushed the cigarette out, the embers sparking and then dying under
his thumb.
I watched, unmoved. The Caleb I once loved had never cared about my preferences, my comfort, or my feelings. This remorse felt like too little, too late.
His shoulders shook, his voice barely a whisper, “Grace, I know I was wrong. Please, I’m begging you, come back. I was a fool. I shouldn’t have been so blind. I should have believed
her.”
He clutched the urn tighter, his head hanging low. “I’ve avenged you. I made them pay. Can you… can you forgive me now?”
I felt a flicker of disbelief. Was this really the same Caleb Horton? The man who once callously turned his back on me, who watched me spiral into despair, who pushed me away in my final days?
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After a few days of brooding, Caleb arranged for my burial, choosing a beautiful, serene plot on the outskirts of the city. He organized a grand funeral with a procession that drew influential figures from across the city.
When it came time to engrave my tombstone, he tried to inscribe it with his last name. However, my best friend, Zoe, stepped in to stop him.
“She suffered enough in life,” she said, her voice sharp and unyielding. “Let her have her freedom in death. Don’t taint her memory any further.”
For that, I felt a wave of gratitude for Zoe. I would never be able to forgive Caleb.
I watched my body being lowered into the earth, my soul flickering like a candle flame, slowly becoming more transparent. I could feel myself growing lighter, as if the final ties binding me to this world were unraveling.
I drifted for what felt like months, my spirit wandering through landscapes I’d never had the chance to visit in life. I thought I had finally found peace.
Then, on the day I felt my essence truly start to fade, I saw him again–Caleb–but not as I remembered him. He, too, had become a spirit, his form pale and thin. The ghostly outline of a deep cut ran across his wrist.
He dropped to his knees before me, the anguish in his eyes raw and unfiltered.
“I searched for you… I wandered for so long. Grace, I’m so sorry. I love you. Can you ever forgive me?” His voice cracked, tears streaming down his face, his hands trembling as he reached out to me.
For a moment, I felt a pang of the old, buried affection I once held for him, but it quickly passed. I had long since released my hatred, but forgiveness was a different matter entirely.
After a long, weighted silence, I finally replied, my voice calm and clear, “Caleb, I will never forgive you. I cannot, and I will not, forgive you for what you did to me, and I certainly cannot forgive you on behalf of our child. You don’t deserve it.”
His eyes widened, his broken whisper lost in the silence that followed.
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“I’ve moved on,” I continued, my voice steady. “Let me go. Don’t cling to me anymore.”
As the final words left my mouth, a brilliant, golden light enveloped me, my soul becoming fully transparent, lighter than air.
The last thing I saw was Caleb’s shattered, grief–stricken face as my spirit scattered into
the wind, free at last.
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