Haunting The Husband Who Ignored My Pleas

The bomb strapped to my chest had less than a minute on the timer.

I called my husband, begging him to save me.

"Kevin, please. This is real. I'm going to die."

But Kevin just sighed, his voice dripping with annoyance.

"Stop the drama, Michelle. Violet is having a panic attack because her cat is stuck in a tree. I don't have time for your jealousy games."

He hung up.

Moments later, the warehouse exploded, and I was gone.

But I didn't cross over. My spirit was tethered to Kevin, an invisible spectator to his life.

I watched him roll his eyes at my mother’s frantic calls.

I watched him perform the autopsy on my charred body, convinced I was actually hiding in a hotel to punish him.

It wasn't until he returned to the blast site and found my wedding ring in the ash that he finally broke.

He fell to his knees, screaming my name.

I thought his remorse would free me.

But then he discovered the truth: Violet had orchestrated my murder.

He cornered her, his grief mutating into a violent, obsidian hatred.

I tried to drift away, but the invisible chain binding me to him suddenly tightened, crushing my soul.

I realized with absolute horror that the truth hadn't set me free.

His hatred was an anchor, heavier than his love ever was.

I wasn't just a ghost anymore.

I was his haunting, and I was never leaving.

Chapter 1

Michelle POV

The digital timer’s red numbers counted down from three minutes, casting a bloody, intermittent glow across the gasoline-soaked floor.

I was going to die, and the man I loved was currently panicking over a cat.

My hands were zip-tied behind a rusty metal chair. The bomb strapped to my chest felt heavy, a cold weight pressing against my frantic heart. The sharp stench of fumes stung my eyes, making them water, but I didn't blink. I couldn't.

Daniel stood in the shadows, toying with a lighter. He flicked it open. Flame. Closed. Click. Open. Flame.

"Call him," Daniel said, his voice stripped of any humanity. He held the phone to my ear. "Let's see if the great Kevin Reed cares enough to save his pathetic girlfriend."

The phone rang. Once. Twice.

*Please, Kevin. Pick up. Just this once, pick me over her.*

"What is it, Michelle?" Kevin's voice was sharp. Impatient. Background noise filtered through—leaves rustling, and a girl’s soft, theatrical whimpering.

"Kevin," I choked out. My throat was raw from screaming earlier. "Kevin, please. Daniel has me. There’s a bomb. I’m at the old textile warehouse on 4th. You have to help me."

There was a pause. A cruel, stretching silence.

Then, a sigh.

"Is this the new script?" Kevin asked. His tone wasn't worried. It was bored. "Did you hire an actor this time? Daniel? Who is that, your cousin?"

"No! Kevin, listen to me! The timer is at two minutes!"

"Kevin!" Violet’s voice cut through the line, high-pitched and sickeningly sweet.