Rain fell in relentless sheets, soaking the earth and painting the sky in shades of gray. Thunder rumbled overhead, as if the heavens themselves mourned with him.

The man continued to clung on my lifeless body, soaked to the bone, his trembling form hunched protectively over the crude wooden coffin. His sobs cut through the storm, raw and aching.

A voice broke through the downpour.

“M-Master Ezra?!”

A voice broke through the sound of the storm. A young man in a suit, soaked from the downpour, stumbled toward him, struggling to hold an umbrella against the wind. “W-What are you doing out here? You just got out of the hospital! It’s raining—you’ll get sick again!”

Ezra said nothing. He didn’t even glance at his assistant.

Instead, he just held my body tighter.

Floating above them, I watched the scene unfold in stunned silence. Me. My body. That man.

My ghostly form hovered, unsure, as I took in the sight of the man who mourned me.

“Ezra...?” I whispered to myself. The name tickled something in the back of my mind. “Wait... I think I knew someone named Ezra. But he wasn’t like this. He was… awkward. Quiet. And definitely not this... handsome.”

The man below looked nothing like the Ezra I remembered. This Ezra was tall, broad-shouldered, with eyes like a gathering storm and a jaw clenched in anguish. His expression was so intense, so filled with pain, it made something in my chest tighten.

Then he looked up.

His eyes locked on his assistant, and for the first time, I saw it: the raw, furious grief that twisted his features into something nearly monstrous.

“I will make them pay,” Ezra said, his voice low and cold. “I will make them suffer tenfold for what they did to her.”

Even as a ghost, I shivered.

My form flickered.

But somehow, even through the chill of his rage, I felt something warm. Something... protective.

He stood up slowly, cradling my body in his arms like I was something precious. He didn’t care about the mud, or the rain, or the crowd that might be watching. He only cared about me.

---

The golden coffin gleamed under the soft lights of the funeral parlor.

My body, now dressed in white and surrounded by white lilies, looked peaceful. Like I was sleeping. Like I was still just a girl with dreams and fears and a future.

Ezra stood nearby, silent. His suit was black, sharp, tailored. The only thing out of place was the shadow in his eyes.

I followed him, floating just behind, unable to look away. He had done this for me. No one else had. No one else cared.

---

I was following Ezra when he started talking to someone on the phone, but then I suddenly heard loud flashes coming from the direction we were heading.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

Camera bulbs popped like fireworks. Microphones pushed forward. Reporters clamored, voices loud and intrusive.

Then I saw Kierra sitting at the head of the press conference, dabbing at fake tears with a silk handkerchief. She wore a white dress, as if playing the role of innocent victim.

“Chloe always hated me,” she said, her voice trembling just enough to sound believable. “Ever since we were kids, she tried to control me. She... she even tried to kill me to get rid of the 'taint' that could ruin her perfect image.”

I hovered in the corner of the room, fists clenched. My ghostly form crackled faintly with static.

Liar.

Kierra sniffled delicately, her voice faltering as she spoke. “Every time I tried to start something on my own, Chloe was always there, trying to tear it down. I know I shouldn’t be thanking anyone after what happened to my sister, but I have to thank justice for giving us what we deserve. Thank you so much.” She paused, a brief, almost rehearsed moment before continuing. “I’d also like to thank the businesses that took me on as a sponsor and the films that cast me, even though... my sister was the murderer.” With that, she bowed deeply, a mockery of humility.

Beside her, Richard placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, his expression stoic. “I never imagined Chloe was capable of something like this. I trusted her, but Kierra opened my eyes to the truth. And on behalf of my ex-girlfriend... I want to apologize as well.”

I wanted to scream. The words burned in my throat, but I knew no one would hear me.

Fucking liars!

The fury surged through me, but there was nothing I could do. I longed to lash out, to make them feel even a fraction of the pain they’d caused me, but with this ghostly body, I was powerless.

The fans online flooded the livestream chat:

Poor Kierra. Stay strong.

Chloe was always jealous. It makes sense now.

Richard deserves better.

It was like watching them bury me all over again.

But then—

The doors slammed open.

Ezra walked in, flanked by two police officers. His presence alone silenced the room. Cold. Controlled. Powerful.

He moved straight to the podium, ignoring the shocked gasps and whispers. The officers placed thick folders onto the table. Evidence.

“This press conference is over,” Ezra said calmly. “The truth will now be presented.”

The officers didn’t hesitate. In less than a minute, Kierra and Richard were cuffed, their faces stunned, then horrified, as Ezra handed over evidence. Video files, forged documents, audio recordings, bank statements. Everything.

The truth hit like a nuclear bomb.

Every lie they told, every mask they wore—it all shattered in front of the world.

Ezra didn’t stop there. He made sure every sponsor, every company, every ally that had helped them destroy me got exposed. People who had spit on my grave? Public apologies, fines, blacklisting. The internet turned on them just as fast as it had turned on me.

I watch as he did all this without pause, without sleep—driven only by grief and vengeance. I floated beside him late one night as he returned home, shoulders heavy but unwavering. I reached out, slowly, gently, and wrapped my ghostly arms around him from behind.

“Thank you,” I whispered, voice shaking with emotions I could no longer cry out.

But just as I pulled away, a strange sensation washed over me.

Ezra froze.

Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his head—his eyes scanning the room before locking onto my eyes.

He's looking straight at me.

My breath hitched. No… that's impossible. Can he see me?

I floated backward instinctively, my translucent fingers trembling. His eyes didn’t waver.

Then, without warning, Ezra’s body swayed.

“Master Ezra!” His assistant shouted, rushing forward.

But it was too late.

Ezra collapsed on the floor.

The room exploded into chaos—but I hovered above him, stunned, terrified, and suddenly unsure.

What just happened?

When Ezra finally opened his eyes, the first word that escaped his lips was my name.

"Chloe..."

He jolted upright, eyes wild as they scanned the unfamiliar room. I floated nearby, watching him with my heart—or whatever I had left—caught in my throat.

His assistant, a frazzled young man with worry etched into every line of his face, rushed to his side. “Master Ezra! You’re awake! Don’t move too quickly—”

“Where is she? Chloe! She was here. I saw her.”

The assistant flinched, glancing nervously toward the gold-trimmed coffin placed just across the room. “Sir… Chloe Monroe is… she’s already gone. That’s her coffin, you… you brought her here.”

Ezra turned his head slowly, as if the reality hadn’t fully sunk in until his eyes landed on the still, beautiful form inside the glass-lidded coffin. He stumbled to his feet, disbelief quickly giving way to panic. “No, no—I saw her. She was here. She touched me.”

Wait… did he really see me? Was it real?

Ezra frantically looked around. “Chloe! I know you’re here! Please, I’m begging you—show yourself! Chloe... please…”

But I’m already right here. I'm in front of you. I reach out, wanting to scream, but instead, I clasp my hands over my mouth, my heart breaking as I watch him fall apart.

“Chloe! Please! I’m sorry… I’m sorry I wasn’t there!”

In desperation, he grabbed something from the nightstand—a photo. His hands shook as he stared at the image: a younger version of himself, awkward and chubby, standing at the back of a high school group photo. And there I was, smiling, surrounded by my friends, completely unaware he was in the shot.

“No way... Is that really Ezra…?” I whispered in shock.

It really was him. Ezra Sinclair. The boy I’d barely noticed in high school. The one I’d awkwardly turned down when he tried to talk to me… the one I had been shallow and cruel to. I hadn’t liked the way he looked.

Now, there he was, broken. He collapsed to the floor, clutching the photo to his chest as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

"I'm so sorry, Chloe..." His voice trembled, raw with guilt. His hands shook as he stared at the photo, like he was trying to hold onto something that no longer existed.

His assistant rushed forward, panic in his eyes, but Ezra didn’t seem to notice. His gaze remained fixed on the picture, his breaths shallow, almost frantic. “I wasn’t there... I should’ve been there… If I hadn’t been in that coma… I could’ve saved you.”

He buried his face in his hands, unable to control the grief ripping through him. It wasn’t anger—just pure, helpless sorrow. My heart ached as I watched him fall apart, wishing more than anything I could comfort him.

I reached out, my fingers trembling, but when I tried to touch his shoulder, my hand passed right through him.

“I’m right here,” I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath. “Please, Ezra, don’t do this to yourself. It's not your fault.”

But he didn’t hear me.

---

I watch Ezra's world revolve around my dead body. Every breath he took, every step he took since waking up—it was all for me.

And it hurts to watch.

Time passed, but it felt like days blurred into weeks. People tried to reason with him—doctors, friends, even some of my old fans. They said it was time to bury me, that he needed to let go. But Ezra refused.

He refused food. Refused sleep. Refused life.

Then, one day, his sister, Elise, snapped.

“Wake the fuck up!” she screamed, slapping him hard enough to leave a red mark on his cheek. “She’s gone, Ezra! Chloe Monroe is dead! And you’re not far behind if you keep this up. You have surgery scheduled for Monday, and if you skip it again, you’ll die!”

He stared at her with empty eyes, his face unreadable.

“I’m not getting the surgery,” he said flatly.

“What?” Elise’s voice cracked with disbelief.

“I won’t do it,” he repeated, his tone devoid of emotion.

Elise’s anger flared, and in a split second, she ordered someone to take my body away from him. "Get the surgery, or you’ll never see her again."

“No!!” Ezra screamed, his voice breaking. “Try to take her from me, and I’ll end it. I’ll fucking kill myself. Do you hear me?”

Elise went pale. The room went dead silent, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. But she ordered the body removed anyway. Ezra locked himself in the room with a knife. They backed off.

Her desperation quickly turned manipulative. Elise even hired a woman who resembled me, hoping Ezra might imprint on her instead, anything to pull him back from the edge.

But when Ezra touched her, something inside him snapped. His eyes filled with horror, rage, and overwhelming grief, and in that moment, he nearly killed her.

That was the final straw.

“Do whatever the hell you want, Ezra,” Elise hissed, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and grief. Tears glistened in her eyes as she took a step back. “If you want to waste what little time you have left, be my guest. I don't care anymore!”

With that, she stormed out, the door slamming behind her.

Even after all that, I stayed. I couldn’t leave him. Even if he couldn’t see me anymore.

Day after day, I tried to reach him. I whispered, begged, and pleaded, hoping, wishing that something, anything, would break through the emptiness that consumed him.

“Please, Ezra. Live. You don’t have to do this for me. Don’t throw everything away,” I begged, but nothing changed.

His condition worsened with each passing day. The illness he should’ve fought with surgery crept in slowly, poisoning him from the inside out. He grew paler, thinner—his once-vibrant presence dimming by the hour. But through it all, his focus remained fixed on me, or rather, on my body.

He refused to let it go.

The room grew cold, and despite all the pleas, his attention was always on the still form in the coffin. It was as though he couldn't move on. As if he couldn't bear to part with the only thing that reminded him of me.

And then one night, as the hours dragged on, I saw him lying beside my coffin, his hand resting gently over mine. His expression was hollow, consumed by sorrow.

He pressed a soft, trembling kiss to my lips, the tender gesture, almost fragile, as though he feared even my body might slip away from him.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Even if you never loved me back.”

His breathing slowed, soft and shallow, as if his body itself was giving up.

And then… it stopped.

“E-Ezra...?” I called out, panic rising in my chest.

He didn’t respond.

“Ezra!” I screamed, my voice cracking.

I rushed to him, my heart pounding, but there was no sign of life. His body lay still, unmoving. The room seemed to close in on me as his soul—

I was suddenly swallowed in darkness.

The room, the coffin, even Ezra’s still form disappeared, as I was yanked backward into a vortex of shadow. My ghostly form thrashed, weightless and powerless—until something deeper, older, and far more ancient than time itself whispered through the void:

“He followed you into death… now what will you do?”

The sharp sting of the slap echoed through my entire body, and I gasped, jolting out of my trance. I held my cheek in shock, feeling the lingering warmth of the slap. For a moment, I couldn’t process anything—everything felt too real, too sudden. I could feel the pain. It had been so long since I had felt anything, and now it all came rushing back.

I slapped myself harder, just to see if it was real. To remind myself that I wasn’t floating in some alternate space anymore. The pain shot through my skin again, and I laughed—softly, almost deliriously.

I could hear my mother’s voice now, scolding me, her tone both confused and concerned. “C-Chloe...?”

"She's really gone crazy now, mom," Caleb, my older brother, muttered, sounding bewildered and a little worried.

I looked at them—my mom and my older brother, Caleb—my heart swelling with a mix of relief and dread. I was really here. Really back. Tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them, and I rushed into their arms, desperate for reassurance, for comfort, for something real to hold onto.

“Mom… Caleb…” I sobbed. “I’m so happy. I’m here—I’m really here.”

But instead of the warm hug I expected, Caleb pulled away with a frown.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, eyeing me like I’d grown a second head.

Even Mom looked confused. She gently pulled me back, examining my face.

“Chloe… W-What’s going on? Did I hit you too hard?” She asked her voice low with concern. But then her expression hardened. “If you’re acting like this just to get out of trouble—”

I laughed, still crying. “No, it’s not like that. What you said… it made something click. It made me wake up.”

Caleb scowled and jabbed a finger towards me. “Mom, she’s being super weird! Just a second ago she was saying she didn’t care about school, and now she’s acting like this? What the heck?”

Mom’s brow furrowed, clearly just as puzzled. “Chloe…”

“No, listen to me.” I wiped my tears, still smiling through them. “I realized something. I can’t keep wasting my life like this. I won’t.”

Caleb crossed his arms. “Or maybe you’re just pretending because Dad’s coming home in three days.”

My heart dropped for a second, but I quickly shook my head. “No! It’s not that. It’s not about Dad. I swear. If you don’t believe me, I’ll prove it to you. Just watch.”

Mom let out a long, weary sigh, then placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Alright. I’ll believe you—for now. But please, Chloe, start taking your studies seriously. It’s for your own good.”

I smiled and wrapped my arms around her again. “I will, Mom. I promise.”

She gave me a light pat before turning toward the kitchen. “Now go eat. You and Caleb will be late for school.”

---

The drive to school was a blur. Caleb and I bickered lightly, teasing each other the way we always had. It felt natural, like nothing had changed. It was so strange—so comforting—having these simple moments back again. I couldn’t help but smile as he drove, feeling the weight of everything slowly lift off my chest. I was alive again. I was here. I was with them.

When we arrived at school, I stepped out of the car, my heart racing. Everything looked the same—exactly like it had before. The same people, the same chatter, the same old trees lining the courtyard. But now, it feels like a different world. A world I wasn’t sure I was ready to be a part of again.

Walking into the classroom, I froze. My friends. The sight of them hit me like a tidal wave. My breath caught in my throat as I remembered what had happened to them—how they had been gone, how their bodies had been cold and lifeless. Now they were standing there, alive, breathing, laughing, and I couldn’t move. My body trembled.

Mika was the first to notice. “Clo...? Are you okay? You look pale.” Her voice was filled with concern, and I couldn’t stop my tears from falling as I looked at her—alive.

The others gathered around me, Claudine, Via, Charlotte, and Amelia. They were all so worried, and I could feel their concern and love radiating through them. I wiped my tears away, trying to smile. “No, it’s nothing... I’m just so happy to see you all.”

Their eyes softened, but they didn’t press any further. We talked for a little while before class started, and for once, I found myself really listening—trying to absorb every word, every laugh, like it all meant more now. But my thoughts kept drifting. To him.

Where was Ezra? Had he come to class today?

Amelia, who's sitting beside me, follow my gaze. “I knew it,” she murmured with a sigh, her tone softening. “You’re feeling guilty, aren’t you? About rejecting him in front of everyone. You probably think you embarrassed him.”

I parted my lips to speak, but no words came. How could I even begin to explain the real reason I was looking for him?

“But honestly, Chloe,” she continued gently, “it was the right thing to do. Letting him believe there was a chance would’ve been cruel. You didn’t have a choice—you had to be honest.”

Her words hit me harder than she knew. I flinched again, guilt bubbling in my chest.

I should tell her the truth.

“Actually, that’s not why I was looking for—” I started, but the teacher’s voice cut sharply through the room.

“Settle down, everyone. Class is starting.”

I hesitated, glancing at Amelia, then down at my desk.

The words lingered on my tongue… but I swallowed them.

What was I thinking? They would think I'd gone crazy if I told her the truth.

---

I tried to push the thoughts of Ezra out of my mind as I focused on the lesson. But it was hard. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, about everything that had happened.

Later, in the cafeteria, my friends and I were still talking and laughing, and for a moment, it felt like nothing had changed. I was here, with them. They were alive, I was alive, and everything felt... right. But in the back of my mind, there was a growing unease. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

Claudine leaned in, teasing me as she always did. “You seriously don’t want to come to the club with me? You’ve guys changed...” She pouted dramatically.

Via smacked her playfully on the head. “We should be studying, not worrying about clubs. We’ve already been scolded by our parents.”

The others chimed in, and we all laughed. It felt good to laugh. To feel the normal, everyday stuff again. But as I said goodbye to them and walked out of the cafeteria, I suddenly realized something.

I slapped my forehead. Right... Caleb drove me here. I forgot.

I was about to call out to him when a rough cloth was shoved into my mouth. Thick and suffocating, it pressed tightly against my lips, cutting off my ability to scream.

Panic surged through me, my breath hitching as the world around me spun in a blur of fear.

No… No… Not again.

I thrashed instinctively, trying to pull away, but a firm hand gripped my shoulder, holding me in place. I kicked and struggled, but my efforts were futile. The fabric in my mouth made it impossible to breathe properly, suffocating me with every attempt.

This too soon. This wasn’t supposed to happen yet.

My body went limp, my heart pounding in my chest as I fought to stay conscious. My limbs felt heavy, as if the weight of the suffocating cloth was pulling me under, and then, finally... everything went black.

—

When I regained consciousness, I found myself wrapped in a soft comforter, the warmth of sunlight brushing across my face.

What...?

I blinked rapidly, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. Everything around me screamed luxury—silken sheets, a plush bed, golden curtains swaying gently in the breeze.

Wasn’t I just… kidnapped?

My heart pounded. I sat up quickly, scanning the room in confusion. It was beautiful. Safe. Too safe.

The door clicked.

I tensed, instinctively getting into a defensive stance as it slowly opened.

My breath caught in my throat when I saw who walked in.

“E-Ezra…?” I whispered, wide-eyed.