Emily gasped as the airbag slammed into her, knocking the breath from her lungs. She fought to stay conscious, her eyes locked on the man she had buried just a week ago. Was this real? Had she crossed into some other world where they were together again? Memories swirled in her mind—that dreadful day, the news that shattered her, it all rushed back as if someone had dragged her through the pain all over again.
“No!” A raw, anguished scream tore from her throat, echoing through the flat. “You’re lying! It can’t be true! My husband would never leave me! He wouldn’t do this! He couldn’t just be gone!”
Her legs gave way beneath her, and she crumpled to the floor, nearly passing out. She couldn’t accept it—how could this happen to them? To James? He was so young, so full of life. How could he be dead? His boss had called, explaining it was a sudden blood clot. The ambulance hadn’t even arrived in time.
“There was nothing anyone could do,” the voice on the phone had said. “By the time paramedics got there, James was already gone.” The words rang in her ears like a horror film line, impossible to erase.
What now? How could she live without him? Breathing felt impossible. Tears streaked her cheeks, but Emily barely felt them. The phone stayed pressed to her ear while she stared blankly, unable to speak. She wished it were all just a terrible dream, one she’d wake from any second.
They hadn’t let her see him at the morgue, and only at the funeral did she truly believe it was him in that coffin. Even then, part of her hoped he’d walk through the door, laughing—some cruel April Fool’s joke. Could anyone joke like this? Fine, she’d forgive him. Anything, if he’d just come back. But he didn’t. He lay there, still, too still.
Emily had thrown herself at the coffin, sobbing, begging him to wake up. She’d fainted, been revived with smelling salts. James’s mother looked just as broken, trying to comfort her while barely holding herself together. Only his father had kept pulling Emily away, telling her to accept reality. But how could she?
The funeral passed in a blur. She screamed as they lowered the coffin, as they pried her away. She hadn’t wanted to throw dirt over it—that meant letting go. But letting go meant admitting he was really gone.
Back in their empty flat, Emily tried to gather her thoughts, but the effort lasted minutes at best. Huddled against the wall, she remembered the day they’d met.
“Excuse me, I think you dropped this?” A warm voice made her turn. “Miss?” James smiled, holding out a crimson rose.
“That’s not mine,” she’d said.
“Now it is,” he replied. “You looked so lost in thought, I wanted to cheer you up.”
She’d taken it, flustered. Somehow, they ended up walking together, talking. Love at first sight. Golden-haired, kind-eyed, with a voice like warm honey—James had swept her off her feet. He spoke of family, dreams, children, as if straight from a romance novel.
But that was over now.
The brief smile faded, replaced by fresh sobs. Facing reality, a world without him, was unbearable.
Seven years together, three married. A simple wedding—no extravagance needed, because they were each other’s greatest gift. Now Emily was alone, missing her other half.
She didn’t remember getting to bed. The next morning, her phone woke her—work. Her boss had given her time off, but her stand-in was struggling.
“Emily, hi! It’s Oliver. Got a quick question?”
“Go ahead,” she answered flatly.
“Yeah, I’m lost on these laminate reports—where does the product code go?”
She explained mechanically, then hung up. Collapsing onto the pillows, she stared at the empty space beside her. No tears left, just burning eyes, gritty as if filled with sand. She remembered that feeling from childhood, when a boy had thrown sand in her face during a playground fight.
Forcing herself up, she shuffled to the kitchen. She hadn’t eaten in days, but the sight of food turned her stomach. A glass of water was all she managed.
She couldn’t touch photo albums, couldn’t watch videos of his voice. Yet she heard him all the time—calling her name, just out of sight. But every time she turned, the crushing truth hit again.
A week after the funeral, Emily returned to work. Numbers and paperwork numbed the pain. She moved like a robot—better to feel nothing than this agony.
On Friday, she drove to her parents’ countryside home. They’d begged her to visit, but she hadn’t wanted their pity. Now, maybe it would help.
As she drove, grief swallowed her whole. Tears blurred her vision—she didn’t see the truck until it was nearly too late. The world fell silent, as if time stopped. Was this fate? Was James calling her to him?
A sharp yell jolted her back.
“Turn!” A man’s voice—James’s voice—shouted as brakes screeched.
James grabbed the wheel, swerving them aside. Emily couldn’t believe it—he was here! Alive, yet ghostly, like mist given form. Terrified, she ached for him to stay.
They avoided the truck but skidded into a barrier. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs. Blood trickled from her forehead. She stared at James—those seconds stretched into eternity.
“Am I dead? Are we together now?” she whispered.
“Not yet,” he said gently. “You have people who need you. Promise me you’ll stop risking yourself. You have to live. I can’t stay, but I’ll watch over you. Let me go. And promise me you’ll be happy. Don’t let grief steal your life. We’ll meet again.”
Then he was gone.
The truck driver wrenched her door open. “You alive? What the hell were you thinking?” His face was pale, sweat-drenched.
Emily barely heard him. James had been real. He’d saved her.
As the ambulance and police arrived, she admitted fault—distracted driving. But she didn’t mention the ghost.
Her parents rushed to the hospital the next day.
“You’re coming home with us,” her mother insisted. “James wouldn’t want this!”
Then the doctor entered.
“You’ll need to stay another week or two. And take it easy—you’re pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” Emily gasped.
“Seven weeks. You didn’t know?”
She burst into tears, hugging her mother. “Mum, I’m pregnant! James left me our baby…”
In that moment, she understood. For this little miracle, she’d survive. She’d be strong. And one day, she’d tell their child all about the kind, loving, wonderful man his father had been.
Silently, she promised James:
*I’ll live. For him.*
