#non!mc

You bit your nails, glancing at your phone for the umpteenth time tonight. Your laptop was in front of you, Caleb's favorite snacks sprawled out on your bed, unopened and waiting, and your favorite Hello Kitty pajamas on (Caleb had a matching pair).

It was 6:24. Where the hell was he? He was supposed to be here at 6:05.

You flicked your mouse across your screen as your computer dimmed. You glanced at the time again—6:25 p.m.

Seriously, where was he?

You sighed, opening his contact and calling him.

It rang once. Twice. Three times.

Was he seriously not going to pick up—

"Pips!"

You couldn't help the small breath of relief that spilled past your lips. "Caleb."

"Hey! Uhm—look, please don't be mad."

Your heart sank.

"What?"

You heard laughing in the background, then a hushed scolding before Caleb was speaking into the phone again. "So, uh I got caught up with my friends at the courts. We were just supposed to stay for a few minutes but now I'm all sweaty and gross."

"Okay..." you murmured. "So, you're not coming?"

"I promise I can make it up to you."

You bit your cheek, trying your best to hide just how disappointed you were. But to do that, you had to stay completely silent.

After a beat, Caleb started again. "Babes.. I'm really sorry. Are you mad at me?"

"No," you managed, but the word was clipped.

"Hey, I'll see you tomorrow and I'll take you out on a date, yeah?"

Silence.

"Babe?"

"'Kay."

You thought you thought you heard Caleb's breath hitch. "Kay? Hey, if you're mad, tell m—"

"I'm not mad. Just text me to let me know you're safe."

"Wait, hold—"

'End call.'

You let out a shaky sigh. Of course, he missed this. Of course, he missed the one day of the week he didn't have practice or conditioning.

You switched your phone on do not disturb and placed it on your nightstand. You roved your eyes over the assortment of snacks you'd gotten him. You guessed they were yours now.

He'd been missing more dates recently. Had been having to make up a missed date or late arrival more often. It was always basketball, or his friends, or her that kept him from you.

But he still loved you, right?

-

You were curled up in bed with him, your arm lazily draped over his chest as you scrolled through TikTok, only half paying attention to the videos because your mind was swimming with the question: Who is Caleb texting?

You didn't want to be the girl who peeked at her boyfriend's phone or demanded to know who it was, so you just lay there, pretending you were fine when you were dying to know who he was talking to.

But you knew.

Deep down, you knew it was her.

At some point, he got up to get something from his mini fridge and you turned over on your side so you wouldn't impulsively grab his phone and swipe through every conversation he's ever had.

But then his phone buzzed.

Then again.

And again.

Caleb glanced up from his fridge. "Hey, think you can respond for me?"

Your heart leapt in your throat as you slowly turned on your side and glanced at his phone. "Oh." You slowly picked it up and entered the password.

You stared at her contact name: 'MC 🏃‍♀️'

His childhood best friend. Track girl. Tanned and skinny with toned legs like every other track player.

Of course. Why would you ever hope it would be anyone else?

You swallowed hard. "She said that she forgot her foam roller and her coach is going to kill her if she doesn't bring it tomorrow.. She's asking if she can borrow yours."

Caleb hummed in thought, taking out a small bottle of water and taking a sip. "Uh, type back 'sure'."

You hesitated. "Don't you need it?"

Caleb shrugged, crossing the room back to his bed and settling in beside you. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

Was that special treatment? Or was he just being nice? Just being him? Slowly, you messaged her back and handed him his phone back. You didn't say anything. Didn't look, just lay there on your back instead of cuddling with him again.

"Hey, why are you all the way over there?"

You shrugged, already scrolling on your phone again. "I don't know. Just got comfy here."

Caleb furrowed his brows. "You seemed fine just seconds ago."

"Mm."

Caleb sighed, sitting up straight. "Look at me."

"I'm fine, Caleb."

"No, Babe, please just—"

You sighed, shifting in his bed as you curled back into his side, and gave him your best smile. "I'm fine. See?"

Caleb stayed silent for a moment, his eyes softening. "If I hurt you, I didn't mean to. MC's just a friend."

Your throat tightened as you looked away. "I know."

"Do you?"

No.

"Yes."

Caleb sighed softly before lying back down. You guys didn't talk about it after that. Just settled into an uncomfortable silence.

But that was fine.

It was fine.

-

You fidgeted in his passenger seat, pressing your legs together. You tried something new that day—a bit of makeup, nicer clothes, a new hairstyle. Caleb told you how cute you looked before you left the dorms, but his words seemed to fade as you pulled up to the small restaurant.

"Hey," Caleb said, squeezing your hand. "I promise you look great."

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Okay."

With that, you two stepped out of the car and made your way inside. It wasn't upscale or anything, just some place to grab a quick bite and chat, but you felt out of place nonetheless.

His friends greeted him. They greeted you, too. They were never mean to you, your personalities just never really went well together.

But sometimes it made you wonder how you were with Caleb in the first place if the people he surrounded himself with were the complete opposite of you.

At first, everything was fine. You sat there, smiled at all the right times, and spoke when you were spoken to because you had no idea what you would say otherwise.

Then—"How come you barely speak?"

You glanced at his friend. The table had gone silent, all eyes on you now, like everyone was wondering the same.

"I do," you tried, offering a nervous smile.

"Sure, every now and then, but what is it? You don't like us or something?"

Caleb squeezed your hand under the table. "C'mon. So what she doesn't like talking?" he huffed.

His friend frowned. "We just wanna get to know her." Then he turned back to you. "So? What is it?"

Heat stung your face. You hated being put on the spot. Hated how everyone, including your own boyfriend, was just staring at you now, waiting.

You fidgeted in your seat, your throat suddenly too tight.

"No, I like you guys. I guess I just..." you shrugged, "don't have a lot to say."

One of his friends clicked his tongue. "You're really... shy, huh?"

You went even quieter at that.

Shy.

The way he said it was odd, like it was almost an insult. Was it meant to be an insult? What was wrong with being shy?

"I guess," you murmured, avoiding his gaze.

Before anyone could say anything else, Caleb cut in. "Alright, alright, let her be guys."

They all started fussing, begging Caleb to let them ask more questions, but you weren't listening anymore. You were staring at your half-empty cup of water, your cheeks burning so hot you felt like you couldn't breathe.

Caleb leaned over to you once his friends settled down. "Hey, you okay?"

You looked up, trying for a smile, but it didn't reach your eyes. "Yeah. I'm fine."

He looked like he was going to say something else, but you stood up before he could, your chair squeaking against the floor. His eyes followed you, his brows furrowed with concern. "Are you sure?"

You nodded. "Yeah. Just want to use the restroom."

Caleb stood up beside you. "Want me to come?"

"No. It's fine." Then you were gone, hurrying through the restaurant blindly. You had no idea where it was, but when by some miracle, you found it,you slipped into the first available stall. You sat there, too overwhelmed to care about how dirty the seat was.

You just breathed shakily, resting your elbows on your knees and bringing your hands to either side of your face.

So what if you were shy? Why did it have to be such a big deal? Why didn't Caleb stop them sooner? He would've immediately jumped to MC's defense if the roles were switched, wouldn't he?

No, don't do that to yourself. You were just—You just—You sighed, burying your face in your hands.

You didn't want to go back out there. Maybe you wouldn't.

-

That day made you spiral. It made you question why Caleb was even with you.

You stopped asking for things after that—pictures, phone calls, texts, hugs, kisses. You started deleting messages you meant to send like 'I miss you's and 'I love you's. Started stalking his old posts and compared them now.

He looked happier back then. Louder. More him.

Caleb noticed the small shifts and would suddenly say things like "You know I love you right?" You always nodded and told him you loved him too, but you believed him less and less.

Now you were at a party he insisted would be fun, but the second you got there he was pulled into conversations and games. And worst of all? MC was there, laughing and smiling with him like it was second nature. And Caleb smiled back—so big and bright. He never smiled that way with you.

And you stood off the side, a bitter drink in hand that was barely doing anything to quiet the voices in your head.

You felt lost for hours, and Caleb only checked in on you twice. Twice. He looked at you, talking to you, but he didn't see you. Not really.

"Hey."

You glanced up from your drink, blinking at MC who had padded over to you and took a seat on the couch next to you.

"Are you okay?"

You smiled. Or tried to. You didn't have the energy for it though. "Yeah. I'm fine."

MC wasn't mean or malicious. That's what really pulled this all together. She was nice. Observant. She saw you more than your own boyfriend and something about that made you want to break down right then and there.

She sighed. "Listen, me and Caleb aren't—"

"Picture!"

Before she could finish her sentence, you were both being pulled into a group photo. You were at Caleb's side, she was on his other.

Then it happened. He wrapped his hand around her waist and tugged her close, then smiled into the camera like nothing.

You felt the flash, but your eyes were glued to him. To his smile. To his hand.

Your stomach coiled with something hot and ugly. Your eyes stung with tears and you immediately decided no. No, you couldn't be here anymore.

You slipped from his side and started pushing through the throng of partygoers. You didn't care that Caleb was your ride, you'd figure something out.

You stepped into the cool air and let out a soft breath. You blinked furiously, trying to keep your tears at bay, but they streaked down your cheeks unbidden and ruined your makeup.

Not that it mattered. You weren't sure Caleb even noticed it tonight.

You stood there for a second before finally starting down the sidewalk. You were 5 minutes in when you got a text.

Caleb: Where'd you go?

Nothing.

Caleb: Hey, you alright? I can't find you. Call me.

Still nothing.

Caleb: Babe, why aren't you answering? Just text me if you're okay.

Do not disturb.

Caleb: Why'd you go on do not disturb? I'm sorry. Please answer.

You shoved your phone in your pocket and kept walking. Your feet ached and your body shook from the cold, but anything was better than talking to Caleb right now.

You weren't sure what happened once you got to your dorm, all you knew was that it was 3:00 a.m., your makeup was wiped off, and your shoes were on the floor near your bed.

Probably Tara.

You let out a small yawn, about to settle back into bed when your phone went off again. You let out a tired groan, blindly reaching for your phone that was on your nightstand and squinting as you looked at the screen.

20 unread texts from Caleb.

Slowly, you opened the messages.

You read over all of them, each one making your chest a little heavier. Then finally, you typed back.

You: I want to sleep.

Caleb: Jesus Christ. That's all you have to say? I've been worried sick.

Read.

Caleb: Stop doing that. Please talk to me.

Suddenly, your phone lit up with his contact. You sighed, hesitantly accepting his call and pressing it up to your ear.

You didn't say anything at first. Just sat there, listening.

"What the hell?" Caleb immediately breathed out. "I was so worried about you. Why didn't you tell me you were leaving the party?"

You waited a second, then quietly you said, "I didn't think you'd notice."

You heard something soft, like disbelief. "Why wouldn't I notice?"

You stayed silent.

"Y/N, please talk to me. What's going on?"

Tears stung your eyes again. You felt your lip tremble with a small cry, but you swallowed it back. "I'm tired."

Silence.

"Tired of what? You can't just leave a party like that."

You took a shaky breath. "Of this."

More silence.

Then you heard the stutter in his breath. "What?"

His voice got so quiet, you almost didn't recognize it.

"What do you—? I don't—Okay, just wait." You heard rustling, then again—"What does that mean?"

You shrugged, tears spilling down your cheeks now. "I don't want to do this anymore, Caleb."

"Stop," Caleb blurted out. "I don't—I don't get it."

"I tried," you whispered, your voice breaking on a quiet sob. "I'm just... I can't do it anymore."

"Are you breaking up with me?"

You couldn’t stop the sound that broke from your throat. The thought of being without him hurt. Maybe even more than everything you've gone through these past months, but you knew it wasn't right anymore.

Not when you were invisible to the one person who was supposed to really see you.

"Yes."

There was a beat of silence, until quietly, Caleb murmured, "I don't want to break up."

Your throat tightened painfully.

"I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, baby. I can—I can stop being friends with MC. I can quit basketball. I can talk to my friends and make them stop being such assholes. I can—"

"I don't want any of that." You closed your eyes, chest aching with all the months you'd spent trying to hold on, only for it to end like this.

“I just want it to stop."

you were the best bet in this scenario. ever had their eyes on caleb and mc since forever, having accumulated enough data to intercept any attack from them. and, worst case scenario, if they failed, they would get them two as prisoners.

their goal would be fulfilled.

but you?

you, the unsuspecting colleague of mc at the hunters’ association that just happened to get closer to her? you, the unknown and unimportant person that also befriended caleb? you, the obvious third wheel that somehow fit together with the two of them?

ever had no clue about you. and no interest to know you.

“listen, my mimicry evol is perfect for this.” you pointed out once more as you swayed your hands and caleb’s together. trying to ease the obvious displeasure and tension he was harboring.

“and i am telling you, ever is no joke. it’s different than the wanderers you battle every–”

“i will just go in, shapeshift, get that bastard head scientist, and get out.” you plucked one hand from your linkage, placing it briefly on top of your face to activate your evol. beneath your open palm, your very being changed, expanding and compressing, shortening and elongating.

until the person before caleb was… himself.

“let me do this for you, caleb! let me do this for mc.” his own voice was now speaking back at him, bringing a shiver down his spine as he recognized your unshaking resolve.

you were the same as him — stubborn, unwavering.

fighting for the one you loved most.

“… fine. but if you get injured, you’re immediately out.”

•••

imagine the infiltration was clean at first. you moved like smoke through corridors, your evol mimicking a random employee you’ve smacked around the head and laid unconscious in a locker.

imagine the scientist was exactly where caleb said he’d be — hunched over a terminal, thin fingers dancing across holographic displays.

you didn’t give him time to scream. your elbow pressed against the back of his head, and he crumpled unconscious, body going pliant against your hold.

but imagine someone discovered you. even transformed, they recognized the lifeless body of their boss hunched over your arms. so they shot at you, bullets flying all over due to their lack of training.

they were scientists after all.

one bullet grazed the head scientist, piercing the lab coat and causing crimson red to pool at your legs. you’d never thought you’d have to shield the very person that’s causing your friends distress but there you were, covering his unconscious body as you too shot back at the people.

imagine it was hard to aim with your pistol and have additional body weight in your arms. imagine it was even harder to dodge and that’s how a bullet finally pierced you.

imagine all the scientists falling one after the other, stained red with their own blood.

but imagine you fell too, pistol dropping, evol retracting.

as you let out a painful groan at the visible wound in your abdomen.

you have no time to press against it, to stop the bleeding that poured out of your mouth with a strong cough. because the alarms bloomed red, siren hurling in your ears, and the facility entered lock-down mode.

ever doesn’t leave its treasures unguarded.

more personnel entered the room.

you take three hits before you reached a door — one to the shoulder, one grazing your ribs, one buried deep in your thigh. you dragged the scientist’s weight through the threshold as you bled more and more, finally sealing the door behind you.

locked. safe.

at least for now.

you slid down the door and the blood came with you.

imagine it was all strange… how quiet dying was. you always imagined it would be loud — sirens, shouting, the thunder of your own heart, the ragged breaths of your overused lungs. but here, in this tiny lab nook, there was only the hum of machinery and the wet sound of your breathing.

each exhale shallower than the last.

the scientist slept beside you, peaceful as a child. unaware of the ruckus you’ve caused outside, unaware of the spreading blood that swept the pristine floors and threatened to stain him too.

you failed.

you couldn’t do it alone.

you have the man, yet you can’t get him to caleb.

you failed, you failed, you failed.

.

.

.

no.

slowly turning your wrist, your eyes met the hunters’ watch — still intact, still fully operable. with one hit of your trembling fingers, you sent a signal to caleb.

you needed him here to finish the job.

to take the scientist and finally free mc.

to free himself.

…

to free you.

with the blinking red dot pulsing on your watch screen, you pushed yourself away from the door. crawling slowly towards the scientist.

planning to ensure his safety over your own.

•••

the scientist’s face was still his own. you haven’t changed him yet.

you should do it now, before you lose the strength. before you lose your conviction. before your evol collapses from the large amount of blood you’ve lost.

it’s the only way.

you tell yourself as tears welled up in your eyes, gleaming redder under the flickering alarm lights of the enclosure.

making you look as if more blood was seeping from your battered body.

your hand hovered over his forehead, and you hesitated. because once you do this — once you give him your face and you take another — caleb will take him. he’ll see the scientist wearing your expression, your blood, your stillness, and he’ll think it’s you.

he’ll hold him and carry him away to safety. thinking it was you.

you won’t be there to feel his protectiveness, his care. and maybe that was how it should be. you, alone, watching and contributing to the prosperity of caleb and mc. you, abandoned, knowing your place and staying far away from two people that were obviously made for each other.

you, hopeful, wishing your sacrifice will be taken as a blessing for their future.

your palm pressed down.

the scientist’s features rippled like water accepting a stone. his jaw softened. his hair spilled longer, changing colors. his clothes bled into the torn fabric of your hunter uniform, the bloodstains aligning with surgical precision.

when it was done, he was you.

a perfect copy.

a perfect lie.

and you — you dragged yourself closer to the fallen cabinet at the back of the room, hand pressed to your own face.

thinking of the man you passed by in the hallway the moment you entered.

unimportant. nondescript. forgotten.

your body warped. your face became his face. generic. unremarkable. the wounds translated across the transformation, still bleeding, still fatal — but the vessel doesn’t matter. only the function.

caleb won’t look twice at you now.

you were no one.

just as you should’ve been from the start.

and, with your remaining strength, you bashed the hunters’ watch before it morphed away from your body.

effectively erasing any recognizable trace.

•••

imagine the door exploded inwards soon after.

you didn’t see him at first — just a blur of motion, a voice cracking on a name that wasn’t yours anymore. caleb fell to his knees beside the copy. his hands hovering over her shoulders, her face, the pulse point at her throat.

the transformed scientist was in better shape than you, yet caleb looked so… desperate.

as if his entire world crumbled.

“–no, no, stay with me, stay with me–”

his voice broke on the last word, shattering like glass dropped on concrete. you’ve heard caleb angry, cold, sharp-edged as a blade.

you’ve never heard him fracture.

your fingers curled against the cold floor, quivering from the pain. and suddenly, you wanted to reach out. you wanted to abandon your stupid plan and be saved.

you wanted to join the two in that happy future you saw for them.

but imagine your evol was flickering. your blood was falling beneath you in a slow, dark bloom. if you redirected your power from your evol to that small call of help, the plan will cease to happen.

the disguise will collapse.

you would fail.

again.

imagine the copy — the perfect, breathing, alive copy — was already being lifted into his arms.

and without even a glance at your wounded, bloodied body, he left.

the door swung shut behind him, leaving you there.

dying.

•••

you tried to hold on, to remain conscious, to not slip into the eternal dream charming you with every heavy breath you took.

because you needed caleb to save the scientist.

•••

your evol flickered more and more, your appearance deteriorating into your true self. somewhere in the parking lot, a man who is not you and never was you began to lose his borrowed shape as well.

so you fully abandoned your disguise, concentrating on the scientist who was receiving aid from paramedics.

you hoped he won’t come back.

you hoped caleb won’t blame himself when the truth surfaces.

you’ve made your choice ever since you’ve heard the new intel about ever. your sacrifice was worthwhile.

•••

imagine caleb came back anyway.

not because he knew. not because some thread of fate pulled him. just because — just because he couldn’t leave. couldn’t walk away from the building with that in his arms and feel like he’d grabbed the right thing.

imagine he set the copy in the ambulance, told the paramedics to take care of her, and turned back before anyone could stop him.

because something felt wrong.

•••

the door opened again.

you heard it distantly, like it happened underwater. your eyes won’t focus anymore. the ceiling distorted, the red light blurring your vision, everything smearing into grey at the edges.

footsteps. slow. then faster.

then stopping.

“–no.”

his voice was strange. not the shattered sound from before. this was quiet. careful. like he was approaching a wounded animal.

like he already knew.

your fingers twitched. you wanted to shoo him away, to shield him from the possible ever employees that might attack again.

go away, go back, you’re supposed to be saving her–

but your mouth wouldn’t move.

“–this isn’t– you’re not–” his breathing changed. ragged. “i saw you. i had you. i had–”

a pause.

“a copy.”

the word broke him open.

he was kneeling now. you felt his hands on your bloodied cheeks — warm, shaking, so careful — and you realized you were found out.

it was just you now. your face. your blood. your eyes, barely open, finding his.

“–no, no, no, no–”

his thumbs swept across your cheekbones. frantic. repetitive. like he could wipe away the pallor, the stillness settling into your skin.

“you’re okay. you’re okay. i’m here. i’ve got you. i’ve–”

your crimson blood slicked his fingers.

“why did you– why?”

his forehead pressed to yours with a trembling whine and you felt something wet drop onto your temple.

caleb.

you tried to say his name. nothing came out. just a breath. just a sigh.

“i told you not to– i told you—” his grip tightened on your face, desperate, like he could hold you here through sheer force of will. “you never listen.”

his shoulders shook with another sob.

“–and i let you go anyway.”

a loud sound teared out of him. not a word. something harsher. something that’s been buried since he was a child losing everything for the first time.

“please…”

his whole body curled around yours. his hand searched for yours immediately, squeezed so hard it almost hurt. he was saying your name over and over now, trying to keep you focused on the present, to keep you conscious until another ambulance arrived.

but you were slowly slipping away.

“–i love you.”

the words suddenly tumbled out of him. raw. ruined.

“i love you, i never– i was supposed to– please, don’t leave me, please.”

his face was pressed into your hair now. you felt his tears soaking through as more pleas escaped his lips. you felt his chest heaving against your failing one.

your heart would have boomed with happiness at his confession, but now it was no longer capable of love.

“i was going to tell you. after this. when it was over. i was going to–” his voice splintered. “i thought we had more time.”

your fingers moved. just barely. just enough to brush against his.

he froze.

“hey. hey, i’m here.”

but you were not. not really.

your eyes found his amethyst orbs one last time. he looked disheveled. shattered. like whatever he was before this moment has been unmade.

you wish you could comfort him.

but your hand was already going slack in his.

and the last thing you see was his face — his beautiful, broken face — as he realized you’re truly gone.

•••

imagine caleb didn’t move for a long time.

he just held you. his thumb still tracing slow circles on your knuckles. his breath still uneven against your hair.

as if you’re sleeping.

as if him staying still enough, quiet enough, would make you open your eyes.

“i love you.” he whispered again.

your body was cold now.

and so was his heart.

©pearlescenthoney 2026. do not copy, translate, or claim any of my writings or works as your own.

as it turned out, waiting was incredibly nerve wracking.

you had never really done something so.. suggestive before. you never had the confidence, and as the hours ticked by, the usual doubts were beginning to creep in.

before you could even get up to change, the front door opened. freezing, you lingered in the bedroom, pacing back and forth as you heard not one, but two voices.

they must've been really excited for your surprise.. you really didn't want to let them down.

before you could slip a robe on, there was a knock on the door. "sweetie? is your surprise in here?"

shit. "u-um, yeah! but- but-" you gulped, pressing your fist to the door. "can you guys.. promise not to laugh?"

"why would we laugh?" zayne's voice soothed you slightly, your hand pressed to your chest. "i'm sure we'll both enjoy whatever you have planned."

"okay.." you hesitantly sat on the bed, fumbling with your position before you settled for sitting with one leg over the other, your hands in your lap. "come in..!"

the door creaked open, and you could only watch in real time as sylus and zayne froze in the doorway. zayne's jaw practically dropped, while sylus immediately covered his mouth. you were too nervous to notice, but both of their faces were bright red.

the silence stretched on for far too long, and you couldn't help but squirm in place. was it too much..? did you look as bad as you thought?

you were about ready to stand up and grab your robe, but the familiar trails of sylus' evol wrapped around you before you were practically dropped right into his arms. you squeaked in surprise, eyes wide as you looked up at him. "sy! what the-"

"fuck, sweetie.." he was usually so composed when it came to the bedroom, but the flush of his cheeks and the bulge pressed against your thigh told you all you needed to know as he buried his face in your neck, greedy hands running up and down the lace. "you look absolutely perfect.."

"you're an angel." zayne breathed behind you, pressing himself against your back as he kissed your exposed shoulder, his hands sliding to your stomach as he too explored your delicious curves. "an absolute goddess sent from above just for us.. how did we get so lucky?"

"y-you don't have to flatter me." you mumbled, still a bit insecure. the nips you received to your ear and neck told you otherwise.

"flatter you?" sylus scoffed, pulling back just enough for you to see the glow of his right eye as he knelt before you, "you're absolutely stunning, sweetie. just so beautiful.."

"why don't we show you just how much we adore you?" zayne mumbled in your ear, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, his lips pressed eagerly to your neck. "we're more than happy to do so."

"i think i'll have to buy you more sets," sylus mused, his lips pressing to the crotch of the lingerie. "now that you've given us such a surprise.." he looked up at you through lidded eyes, "i'll have to ensure we get more surprises in the future."

and as the two unwrapped you like the finest meal, you couldn't help your flared nerves at the thought of wearing even more lingerie..

but well, when your boyfriends were so eager to see you in this single set, who were you to deny them what they wanted?

"we're sorry for visiting without telling you beforehand," zayne cleared his throat, offering you a small smile. "can we come in?"

far too stunned to respond properly, you simply nodded, stepping to the side and watching the two enter your apartment with a casual air you certainly didn't share.

they both moved to sit on your couch, and a silence filled the air before sylus spoke to break it.

"so.. we got your letters," he hummed, pulling out the envelope that made your stomach drop. "it was very touching. definitely very cute."

your face heating with embarrassment, you couldn't help but try to defend your honor. "look, if you're both here to reject me, i'd rather you just get to the point-"

"reject you?" they both shared a confused look, both men taking a pause before zayne spoke first. "do you really think we'd come here to do that?"

"it would be a little cruel, don't you think?" sylus added, red eyes practically seeing through you. "you poured your heart out. we would never spit in the face of that."

"in fact," zayne stood, sylus following as the two stepped closer to you. you couldn't help but back away, but they were quicker, keeping you almost sandwiched between them. they gave you the space to escape, but would you really want to? "we were a bit disappointed we couldn't get to this first."

your head was spinning, their presences making your mouth run dry as you stared up at them. were they.. serious? they couldn't possibly be.. right?

"you.. wanted to confess." you said slowly, face scrunched in disbelief, "to me?"

"well, who else?" sylus, ever so teasing, leaned down to brush his lips against your ear. "you are the most darling thing to us, after all."

"r-really?"

"of course." zayne's hand hovered over your hip, not touching you just yet, "sylus was insisting we should've done so a long time ago, but i thought you needed more time. it seemed i was wrong."

"b-but why me?" you shook your head, still not quite grasping the situation, "you two could have literally anyone you want-"

"so? you're the one we want, lovely." sylus' hand was held out to you, and you were dazed as you took it. "nobody could compare to you. nobody ever will."

"but i'm not even that special-"

"you are to us." zayne gently took your other hand, and you were truly stuck between them now. "the fact you return our feelings is the greatest thing to happen."

"so, what do you say?" sylus gently nudged his head against yours, smiling as you flustered, "shall we take you out tonight? show you exactly why you mean the world to us?"

"or we could stay home, and simply relax together." zayne's lips brushed against your cheek as he spoke, "it's all up to you, dearest."

who knew letters sent on a whim would lead to this?

The guns came without warning. Luke and Kieran held two barrels pointed two loaded pistols towards you. Cold metal, colder eyes. They followed his orders and unloaded their weapons, the bullets tore through you. Through flesh, through bone, through the heart that had loved him so completely

Sylus, your husband. Sylus, the love of your life. He'd ordered your death like you were nothing. Like your years together meant nothing. The pain was excruciating, but worse was watching him walk away with MC. His hand on her back, protective, tender, the way he used to touch you as your blood pooled beneath you and your vision blurred.

He didn't look back. Not once. You died alone on the ground, discarded, while they disappeared into their new life together. They drove off to live your happily ever after as you were buried in an unmarked grave.

But death wasn't the end. It was a beginning.

You rose from your tattered corpse, no longer bound by flesh. Every drop of love you had poured into him crystallized into something bitter, colder, deadlier.

You would have your revenge.

The world felt bitter, darker, colder, infinite. You could feel the threads connecting you to them, pulsing with possibility.

They thought walking away meant freedom? They thought your death meant peace? MC thought she could just spread her legs for another woman's husband and get away with it? Sylus thought he could lie and break your heart, mind, and soul without consequences?

How beautifully, tragically naive.

They wanted their happily ever after?

You would give them something far more memorable.

Even long after they themselves were dead and buried, they will always wonder…

"Was it really worth it?"

You found them at dawn.

In your bedroom. In your bed. The sheets you'd picked out, the mattress that still held the shape of your body, the room where he'd whispered promises into your hair on countless mornings. Now it reeked of her—her perfume, her sweat, the cloying sweetness of their satisfaction.

They were still tangled together, her head resting on his chest where yours used to lay, his arm draped possessively across her waist. His fingers traced lazy circles on her bare shoulder, the same absent-minded gesture he'd done to you. The morning light caught on his face, softening it, making him look peaceful and content.

Happy. You made him happy. But she made him happier.

Something inside you twisted violently.

They celebrated their love the same night they had you murdered!

The rage hit you like a roaring tsunami. But with the rage came a sense of awareness. The world around you differently now. You didn't just see it, but you could sense it. The door. The walls. The very air itself felt tangible and responsive, like it was waiting for you to reach out grab it.

You raised your hand. It looked translucent in the dim light. But when you focused, when you poured all that fury into your hand, it became solid. Real!

You had to test it. You slammed it against the bedroom door.

BANG!

The sound was a thunderclap that shattered the morning stillness. The door shuddered in its frame, rattling on its hinges. The impact reverberated through your spectral form. you could feel it, the shock of solid wood against your fist, the satisfaction of making the physical world acknowledge your existence after you were forcefully departed from it.

Sylus jolted upright like, his hand raised ready to use his evol. Every muscle in his body went taut as predatory instincts snapping into place. MC gasped, clutching the sheet to her bare chest, her eyes wide and wild as they fixed on the door.

"What the hell!?" Sylus's voice was rough with sleep and adrenaline.

They stared at the door. Waiting and listening for the noise to happen again. You held perfectly still, drinking in their fear like it was fine wine.

No footsteps in the hallway. No voices. No creaking floorboards or rattling windows. Just that single, sound still echoing in their ears and in their bones.

"Did you hear that?" MC whispered, her voice trembling. Her fingers dug into his arm.

"I heard it." Sylus was already moving, throwing off the sheets, not bothering to put on any underwear. His expression was hard and calculating as he scanned the room. Looking for threats. For intruders. For something that made sense. He wouldn't find it.

He crossed to the door with predatory caution before he yanked the it open. The hallway stretched empty before him. Completely silent and undisturbed. Morning light filtered through the windows at the far end, painting everything in soft, innocent haze.

But the air was wrong. Like the atmosphere before a storm. He stepped into the hallway, his eyes sweeping left, then right. Nothing. No one.

You stood right beside him. Close enough to see the tension in his shoulders, the way his pupils dilated as he searched for an enemy that wasn't there. He felt you. He didn't know it yet, but some primal part of him recognized the wrongness, the presence of something that shouldn't exist.

"Sylus?" MC called from the bed, her voice small and frightened.

"It's nothing," he said, but there was uncertainty in his voice now. The first crack in his armor.

You smiled, tasting their confusion, their fear, like honey on your tongue. The rage inside you purred with satisfaction. This power, this ability to reach across the veil and make them feel you. It was intoxicating.

You need more.

By midday, Sylus was gone.

A business meeting and security checks. Something about ensuring the perimeter was secure after the "incident." You'd watched him leave, watched him kiss MC at the door like a devoted lover, promising to return soon.

And now she was all alone.

MC moved through your kitchen with familiarity, like she'd done this a thousand times before. Because she undoubtedly has. She'd been here while you were still alive, cooking in your kitchen, using your things, playing house with your husband while you were out. The thought made your rage spike hot and vicious.

She'd pulled her hair into a messy bun, wearing one of Sylus's shirts like it was hers. The sleeves rolled up as she chopped vegetables on your cutting board with your knife. She was humming something soft and tuneless, completely at ease.

She'd convinced herself things were fine. The morning's disturbance was nothing.

She reached for the cabinet above the stove, where she had reorganized the spices from the far superior system you had in place, and pulled out paprika.

The rage built inside of you again. You focused until you could feel the kitchen around you, every surface, every object, all of it waiting for your touch. You stepped closer to her, wanting her feel you somehow.

MC paused, the knife hovering over the cutting board. She glanced toward the closed window, put down the knife and checked the thermostat. The AC was off and the rooms overall temperature dropped. She shrugged her shoulders and continued her cutting.

You focused again, using everything bit of energy you had on the cabinet beside her head.

BANG!

The cabinet door slammed open so hard it cracked against the adjacent wall. The sound was deafening in the quiet kitchen.

MC screamed. The knife clattered to the floor as she stumbled backward, her hip slamming into the counter. Her eyes were huge, fixed on the cabinet that now hung open, swaying slightly on its hinges.

"Hello?" Her voice cracked. "Sylus?"

Silence.

She was alone. Completely and utterly alone.

You watched her chest heave with panicked breaths, watched her eyes dart around the kitchen, searching for something, anything that made sense. Her hands trembled as she pressed them against the counter, trying to steady herself.

"It's just—it's just old hinges," she whispered to herself, but her voice shook. "Just—just the house settling. It's fine. It's—"

You moved closer, letting the temperature drop further. Her breath misted in the air.

"It's fine," she repeated, but she was backing toward the door now, her movements jerky and frightened. "It's fine, it's fine, it's—"

She ran.

You stayed in the kitchen, surrounded by the scattered vegetables and the abandoned lunch, and smiled.

The fear was so much sweeter when they were alone.

MC didn’t come back into the kitchen.

She hovered in the doorway for a long moment, keys in hand, still pale, still shaken, before deciding she couldn’t stand to be alone in the house any longer. Takeout was easier than cooking anyway. Leaving was easier than sitting with the feeling that something was wrong and being unable to know why.

The door closed behind MC, leaving you alone.

Sylus came home an hour later.

He stepped through the door without hesitation, keys jingling softly as he set them in the dish by the entryway. In one hand, he carried a briefcase. In the other, a tall, curved vase filled with freshly cut red roses.

The scent followed him like a sickly sweet perfume as he placed it in the middle of the counter. Turning it slightly so the light can hit the petals just right. MC would spot them immediately when she came back.

When he was satisfied, he pulled out his phone.

“Hey,” he said, his voice dropping into that soft, intimate tone he saved for her. “I just got back. Yeah, I got you something to help you feel better, you'll love it.”

You didn’t need to focus so hard this time. What you are and what you can do felt so natural at this point even though you were killed yesterday. You were fully embracing what you had become and how you felt. That acceptance, made you stronger than you've ever been.

You looked at the flowers. Simple red roses in full bloom, deep crimson, the petals lush and dewy. The basic uninspiring kind MC like. You ground your teeth remembering the bouquets Sylus got you. They were all different. A beautiful carefully crafted piece of botanical art that showed the unrelenting love Sylus had for you. It was a floral symphony of romance that you loved and appreciated every time.

These roses were a downgrade. You're doing Sylus a favor at this point.

Sylus calmly walked to the fridge, his phone tucked between his shoulder and cheek, using his now free hands to grab a glass of water for himself. But before his fingers could make contact with the fridge, the vase quickly glided across the smooth marble, tipping over the edge with no chance of saving it.

The crash was violent, the glass exploded across the tile floor, shards skittering in all directions as water spilled outward in a sudden flood. The roses petals tearing loose and scattering among the wreckage.

Sylus stood motionless, arm still extended, staring down at the destruction. The phone remained clutched in his hand, her voice faint and tiny as MC called his name again and again, asking if he was all right, asking what had happened. He didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the island, on the exact spot where the vase had stood moments before. Completely sturdy, leveled, and safe.

This had not been an accident. It was impossible.

The house felt completely different now. His pulse quickened, the uneasiness crawling up his spine. He told himself there had to be an explanation—water on the counter, a tremor, something, anything! But none of it was there. He remembered setting the vase down. Remembered making sure it was stable. Remembered thinking how it looked right there.

You were close enough to him now to feel the heat of his body, close enough to sense the growing break in his composure. So close he could see his own breath despite the warm temperature in the house.

Eventually, he would clean the mess. He would sweep up the glass, throw away the ruined flowers, order another bouquet and tell himself it meant nothing. Even if he couldn't bring himself to mean it. Something fundamental had shifted. The house no longer felt like his domain like it always had. The space no longer felt empty.

He was not alone.

The next four days that followed the vase incident were tense. Sylus and MC went through those days in a routine haze. Wake up, go to work, come home, go to bed.

Sylus ordered another bouquet by nightfall. He placed the new flowers in a heavier vase, tucked into the corner of the kitchen, as if reducing the exposure would prevent another act of supernatural sabotage. MC noticed his mood shift, of course. She watched him watch the house. His eyes lingering longer on shadowed corners, his movements a lot more careful, checking locks and thermostats with subtle paranoia. But she said nothing. They were both too proud, too rational, too eager to believe in safe explanations.

You watched them still. Being able to latch onto one of them no matter where they went.  The life and times of Sylus were nothing new to you. You knew everything about him. But you discovered so much more about MC.

Within those four days you saw the dedicated colonel, the flamboyant artist, the caring doctor, and the attentive co-worker.

All unbelievably handsome, talented, rich, and loyal. The way they looked at MC was the way Sylus looked at you. They knew that MC was taken, but not by who, and it was obvious that if given the chance they would take it. They would sweep her off her feet and never let her go again.

MC had choices. Yet she still chose wrong!

But the four full days passed without incident. You didn’t rattle a single cupboard or drop the temperature once. You gave them peace. You gave them space. You let them believe, if only for a moment, that maybe it was over. That the worst had passed.

It made what came next all the more exquisite.

MC wore black satin and red lipstick. Sylus, the dark shirt you bought for his birthday, the one he always claimed brought him luck. You watched them leave together, laughing, fingers laced, tension slipping from their shoulders as they went to have their romantic evening.

They went to a restaurant with candles on the tables and wine in their glasses, a place where everyone knew your name, but couldn't say anything now. They returned late, tipsy and giddy, lips already smeared with lipstick, eyes heavy with desire and drink. They touched each other without shame as they slipped through the front door, their laughter bouncing off the walls like they owned the night.

They didn’t make it to the bedroom. Instead, they left a trail of clothing from the hallway to the bathroom, giggling and clumsy and unbearably content. You heard the shower start and their voices echo through the fogged glass. The bathroom light flowed through the open door casting soft shadows into the hallway. They were in there together, tangled in steam, their bodies close, their breath rising like incense into the air you’d once called your own.

That was when you moved.

One moment, the bathroom door stood wide open; the next, it slammed shut with a force that shook the hinges.

Inside, the water kept running but their moans stopped instantly.

Then the lights went out dipping the room in total darkness.

They fumbled in the dark. Their bodies awkward and dripping, the earlier ease gone, the intimacy evaporated, replaced by slow but panicked movements and shallow breaths. Sylus found the wall at last and navigated to the light switch. When Sylus managed to restore the lights, the bathroom felt stripped of warmth and intimacy.

They moved out of the around in silence after that, grabbing towels, avoiding each other’s eyes. Moving quickly like strangers who were caught being somewhere forbidden.

MC turned toward the mirror, towel wrapped tight around her chest. Her skin still glistened with water, the droplets sliding down her neck and collarbone, but her hands moved on auto pilot. She reached for the hand towel by the sink and wiped a broad stroke across the glass so she can see herself.

The steam parted and revealed a reflection that did not belong to her. You stared through the mirror as though it were nothing more than a window, your expression completely unreadable. Your eyes were fixed directly on hers, like a statue fixed in place.

“Oh my god!” MC recoiled as if something struck her.

Sylus spun toward her instantly, his towel slung low on his hips. “What? What happened?”

She couldn't answer. Her gaze still locked on the mirror, eyes wide and fixed in place. You never broke your eye contact. You didn't even blink, scared of missing a single second of this moment. Her mouth opened, but no words came. Only a shuddering breath as she struggled to even breath properly. MC then her hand lifted to point at you.

Sylus followed her finger just in time to see you calmly walk out of frame.

Not a mirage, or a hallucination, or a vague shadow. The last time he had seen you alive, you were crumpling beneath gunfire. Now, you were walking away from him like nothing was wrong.

“She was there,” her voice small, wrecked with fear. “You saw her. Tell me you saw her!”

A long pause stretched between them.

Then Sylus nodded, just once. "Yes…I saw her."

MC exhaled shakily, stepping back from the sink with uncertain footing, one hand reaching blindly for Sylus as though the contact alone could keep her from collapsing. She gripped his forearm, fingers digging into damp skin, using him like a crutch for reality. He didn’t move. He stood there, his body rigid and cold as marble.

The damage had been done.

You had touched things. Moved things. Appeared in front of them.

Sylus's mind was churning through a thousand calculations, none of them adding up to anything useful. This wasn’t a threat he could neutralize. This wasn’t a security breach or a mistake to be covered up. This wasn’t a woman he could have killed and forgotten.

You had been buried, yes.

But he had buried a body, not the part that mattered.

They were foolish enough to think the house was the problem. That you were bound to the place you once called home.

The decision for them leave the place they tried to erase you from was quick and frantic.

“I’m not staying another second,” MC kept repeating, her fingers slipping as she pulled on pants still damp from the shower. “I don’t care where we go, I just need to get out of here!”

“I know.” His voice was tight. He barely looked at her as he yanked open drawers, pulling out his phone and wallet with shaking hands. “Grab your things. Just the essentials.”

She did. No luggage, no toiletries, just the what they thought mattered: phones, car keys, wallets. It was a full on escape. One that you knew was a pointless endeavor.

The hotel they found was sterile and over-lit, the kind of luxury that tried too hard to mimic warmth. The concierge gave her best customer service smile and a swipe of the credit card machine, saying nothing about the disheveled pair with wet hair and wild eyes. The elevator ride was silent. In the suite, MC finally exhaled in one long breath before collapsing onto the bed.

“We should be safe here,” she said quietly, almost trying to convince herself. “It’s new. It’s clean. She can’t be everywhere.”

Sylus sat on the edge of the couch and stared at the floor for a long time. "We'll find a new home. A completely new life and a fresh start."

After hours of reassuring words and comforting kisses, MC finally calmed down enough to fall asleep soon after.

But Sylus couldn't. He lay beside her for over an hour, eyes wide open. When her soft breathing evened out and the tension in her limbs dissolved, he carefully pulled the sheet away and stood. He didn’t bother trying to look presentable. Just his jacket, his keys, his phone. He scribbled a quick note and left it on the nightstand: Going for a drive. Couldn’t sleep.

The road was mostly empty, long stretches of asphalt with only the company of streetlights. Sylus kept both hands on the wheel, his shoulders as his eyes fixed straight ahead. The talk radio was low enough that he couldn’t make out the words, only the sound of the voice filling the silence. He hadn’t realized how hard he was gripping the steering wheel until his fingers began to ache.

He spoke without thinking, the words slipping out as if saying them out loud might make them true. “It’s not her,” he said quietly. “It’s stress. A little guilt. Just stress. A lot of stress. Nothing else.” He swallowed, his throat dry. “She’s gone. She’s gone. I made sure—”

"SYLUS!"

You voice sounded like a bomb detonating beside his ear. It was right there, it was loud and furious and undeniably close.

“FUCK!”

His hands jerked on the wheel. The car swerved hard, crossing the lane before he could correct it. His foot slammed down, missing the brake, and the tires screamed as the headlights veered off the road. The car hit the telephone pole head-on. The impact jerked his body forward, then back. The seatbelt biting into his chest and shoulder as the airbags deployed and knocked the air out of his lungs. Metal crumpled. Glass shattered. Then the car stopped completely.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence and the ticking of the engine.

Sylus sagged against the steering wheel his chest burning as he struggled to draw in air that wouldn’t come fast enough. His hands trembled uncontrollably. Something warm ran from his nose, dripping onto his shirt. He blinked hard, trying to focus, the edges of his vision swimming.

The hazard lights clicked on automatically, their steady blinking reflected against the dark road ahead, casting red light across the interior of the car in slow and rhythmic pulses.

He didn’t move. He didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to. You were seated directly behind him. He locked eyes with you through the rearview mirror.

Your body wasn't a ghostly apparition. It was solid and bloody, looking the way you did that night after you were brutally gunned down, lit intermittently by the flashing of the hazard lights. You were not slumped or disorientating from the crash. You were not weak or fighting for your life from your bullet wounds. You sat upright and composed, your face calm and your eyes fixed on him.

Sylus’s hands slipped from the steering wheel as his body recoiled, and he twisted in his seat just enough to confirm what he was seeing. You didn't vanish. You didn't shift or blur or fade. You remained exactly where you were, occupying the back seat as naturally as you once had on long drives together.

A painful sound slipped through his lips as he shoved the door open and stumbled out onto the road. His legs nearly gave out beneath him, forcing him to brace himself against the broken frame of the car as the cold night air hit his hot and sweaty skin. He turned back slowly, dread pooling heavy in his gut.

You were still there, your gaze never leaving him. You didn't try to move, you just simply watched as he staggered away from the car, every step uneven, his shoulders hunched as if making himself smaller to escape your stare.

He didn’t look back again after that. He walked along the edge of the road before managing to teleport away towards the hotel, far from the life he had tried to escape into. While you remained seated in the back of the wrecked car, watching him leave you behind again.

MC slept deeply in the hotel bed, a soft smile on her face as she dreamt.

In the dream, the world was brighter, softer, and warmer. Her home filled with love and comfort instead of dread. She was curled against Sylus on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, his arm draped loosely around her shoulders as the television played in the background. The light in the room was low and golden, the kind that belonged only to a dream like this. His presence felt grounding and reassuring, his thumb absentmindedly brushing along her arm as though nothing had ever gone wrong.

For a while, she simply rested there, listening to the rise and fall of his breathing, letting herself become at the ease of it.

Then the baby cried.

MC stiffened, lifting her head from Sylus’s chest. He didn’t move. Didn’t react at all. The crying came again, a lot more urgent that made her chest tighten from her motherly instincts.

The hallway stretched longer than it should have as she walked toward the nursery, the walls dim and quiet, the television noise fading behind her. The crying continued, guiding her forward step by step, her pace quickening as worry settled in her gut. Halfway down the hall though, the sound faltered. By the time she reached the nursery door, it had stopped entirely.

She hesitated for a moment before pushing the door open.

The nursery curtains were drawn shut, but was lit by a single lamp. Everything was exactly as it should have been, but something was very, very wrong. The rocking chair sitting in the corner, moving slowly back and forth.

You were sitting in it, holding MC's baby securely in your arms, cradling her tiny body against your chest as though you had done it a thousand times before. Your movements were slow and calm, the rocking gentle and steady. The baby was quiet now, her face relaxed, her tiny hand curled into the fabric of your shirt as she slept.

MC couldn’t breathe.

You lifted your gaze and looked at her tenderly, your eyes lowered briefly to the child in your arms before returning to MC’s face. There was no hostility in your posture, no aggression in the way you held the baby, no rage radiating off of you in subtle ways.

“She's cute,” you whispered. "My baby would have looked cuter though."

MC’s breath hitched. She stood frozen in the doorway, every instinct screaming at her to move, to do something, but her body refused to obey. “Put her down,” she said, the words barely holding together. “Now. Please.”

You smiled, but it was anything kind. “Don’t make that face, MC,” you murmured. “She’s fine.”

The baby vanished in a puff of gray smoke that dissipated almost as instantly as it appeared, leaving your arms empty as if they had never held anything at all. The rocking chair continued to move for a moment longer before slowing to a stop.

“Because she isn’t real,” you said calmly. You leaned back slightly in the chair, eyes never leaving her face. “This is a dream. Your dream of a life that you truly don't deserve. My husband and a baby together? Give me a fucking break. Slimy little homewrecker…"

You rose from the rocking chair slowly, the wood giving a soft creak beneath your weight. The door slamming shut behind her as you stood.

MC reacted on fear and instinct. Spinning on her heel, she lunged for the doorway, fingers closing around the handle as she yanked hard, openly panicking. The door didn’t budge. She tried again, putting her weight into it this time, her shoulder slamming against the wood as she struggled to pull it, push it open. But it wasn't budging.

Behind her, your footsteps were unhurried. There was no rush in you, no need to close the distance quickly. You knew she had nowhere to go. The door remained firmly shut, the walls unmoving, the nursery sealed as though it had always been meant to hold only the two of you.

“No. No, no,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she fumbled with the handle again. “Please open—”

MC turned slowly, her back pressed to the door, chest rising and falling too fast as she watched you approach. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for escape, for an interruption, for anything that might wake her from the dream she now understood she couldn’t control.

You stopped a few steps away from her, close enough now that she could see every detail of your face. “Are you enjoying yourself, MC?” you asked quietly.

MC swallowed hard, her back pressed flat against the door, nowhere left to retreat.

“Living my life,” you said. “Wearing my things. Sleeping beside my husband in my bed. Playing house with the future I was supposed to have.” Your eyes never leaving her face, committing every ounce of her fear into your memory. “The life of a good and honest woman you were more than happy to have erased.”

MC stuttered. “I didn’t—”

“You did,” you interrupted, your voice calm but unyielding. “You knew exactly what you were doing.” You took another step closer, forcing her to tilt her head back to keep you in view. “Don’t insult me by pretending you felt remorse when you were scratching your nails down my husband's back, the same night my body was being buried in an unmarked grave in the middle of a dead field.”

Her composure shattered. “Please,” she sobbed, words tumbling over each other. “Please I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I know that now. I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” you said simply. “You shouldn’t have. You could've had anyone you wanted. You’re beautiful. Intelligent. Successful. People trust you without even realizing why.”

Your eyes narrowed as you glared at her. “I trusted you. I let myself believe you weren’t a threat. That we could have been friends.”

MC slid down the door until her knees nearly gave out entirely, tears streaking her face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re only sorry because I’m here,” you said. “Because I can follow you anywhere and you can’t escape. You’re sorry because I’m forcing you to face the consequences of your deplorable actions.”

“I’ll leave him,” she said desperately. “I’ll move away! Back to Linkon, anywhere! I won’t see Sylus again! I swear!”

“And will that magically bring me back to life?”

MC said nothing. She couldn’t. The answer was already there.

“Exactly,” you said.

You squatted down to her level, slowly bringing your hands up and cradling her face in your hands. MC shrank back instinctively, her back and shoulders digging into the door, unable to catch her breath as you touched her. Her eyes flicked wildly across your face, searching for mercy or any kind of emotion she could recognize and reason with. She found none of it.

“You don’t get a clean ending,” you continued. “You don’t get absolution. You don’t get to run somewhere far away and pretend I just some crazy chapter of your life.” Your gaze hardened, in a way that made her stomach drop. “I’m going to live with you and that parasite growing in your belly."

She didn’t react right away, as if she’d misheard. “What?”

"Yeah, your pregnant. A few weeks along, but it's there."

MC shook her head in denial, weak and desperate. “No…no, that’s not—please—”

“You’ll feel it soon,” you went on, as if explaining something mundane. “And every time you look at that child, you'll think about how your selfishness ruined it's life before it even began.”

Her breath hitched, panic finally cresting into something close to hysteria. “Please,” she whispered. “Please—”

“I’ll be there in your dreams and when you wake up,” you said. “In the quiet moments, when you think you’re safe. In mirrors, when you’re not expecting it. In the corner of your eye, when your guard is down. Every time you start to believe you’ve moved on, I’ll remind you of who you stepped over to get here.”

Tears streamed down her face unchecked now. Her body trembled, exhausted, defeated. “I can’t live like that,” she whispered.

You frowned, repulsed by her words. “I didn’t get to live at all.”

You straightened slowly, taking a single step back, already fading away.

“One day,” you said softly, “you’ll stop asking for forgiveness and start begging for silence and peace.

You met her eyes one last time.

“And I won’t give you either.”

You reached for the switch of the lamp and turned it off, ending the dream in darkness.

MC woke with a sharp gasp, her body jerking upright in the hotel bed, heart pounding hard enough to make her chest ache. The sheets were twisted around her legs, damp with sweat, her hair stuck to the back of her neck. For a moment, she lay there disoriented, breath uneven, the room unfamiliar in the dark. She could still feel you there, touching her, breathing the same air as her.

She pressed her palm against her stomach. There was nothing to feel, nothing to confirm what she’d heard, but she felt nauseous anyway. Tears came down like rain during a storm. She tried to keep it silent at first, but she couldn't hold back anymore, her shoulders curling inward as she folded over herself. Bringing her knees to her chest and holding them close.

Thirteen years later, MC’s life had settled into something that passed for peace.

Her marriage with Caleb was full of joy and love that she didn’t think she could feel again. The house she shared with him sat on a calm street lined with trees that bloomed every spring without fail. Where the neighbors knew each other and helped each other.

Afternoon light spilled across the living room floor as their baby boy wobbled between them, his small arms outstretched, determination etched into his tiny face. MC hovered close behind him, ready to catch him, while Caleb crouched a few steps away, hands open and ready to embrace him.  Their six year old daughter concentrated on her coloring book nearby, looking up every now and then to encourage her brother.

“That’s it,” Caleb encouraged, smiling. “You’re doing great. Come on.”

The boy took two more steps before collapsing into MC’s arms, squealing with delight. She lifted him, pressing her face into his hair, breathing him in.

For moments like this, the past stayed quiet. For moments like this, she almost believed she had outrun it. Outrun you.

You still appeared sometimes.

In reflections in the mirror and windows. In dreams that left MC waking with her mind and body numb. The sudden drops in temperature or the unmistakable sense of being watched when she was alone. When certain things moved on their own with no one near them. But never long enough to destroy what she’d built. Never enough to keep her from moving forward.

Caleb knew nothing about Sylus. Nothing about the twins MC gave birth to and put up for adoption moments after they were born. Nothing about the woman who had promised never to leave. MC had learned that survival sometimes depended on silence. If she wanted to live her life with Caleb and their kids, she needed to swallow her past and keep it down.

It was mid-afternoon when the doorbell rang.

MC answered it with her son balanced on her hip, expecting a neighbor or a delivery. Instead, she found herself staring at a girl  who looked no older than thirteen, standing rigid on the porch, thin and pale, white hair pulled back too tightly in a ponytail, red eyes filled with something volatile and barely contained.

“Are you MC?” the girl asked with no hesitation or uncertainty.

“Yes,” MC said slowly. “Can I help you?”

The girl’s expression changed instantly right before she lunged. The girls hands grabbing at MC’s hair right at the root, nails digging in hard enough to draw blood as she tried to pull her forward to the ground. MC cried out in pain, twisting away and shielding her son instinctively as Caleb rushed forward, pulling the girl off her.

“Hey!”

Caleb used his evol to create some distance between MC and the girl. The girl fought against the gravity holding her back her face twisted with unfiltered rage.

“Let me go!” she screamed. “Let me go! She has to pay for what she did! This is your fault! You ruined everything!”

MC retreated several steps, heart racing, her son pressed tightly to her chest as he cried from the sudden violent altercation, as her daughter ran to her room. MC murmured to him softly, though her body was shaking. Caleb didn’t look back. His entire focus was on the girl thrashing against his evol.

“Explain yourself.” Caleb demanded.

The fight drained out of the girl all at once. Her shoulders sagged, she fought to even out her breath. “My name is Rin,” she said hoarsely. “I’m thirteen. And she ruined my life. Because of her I've been haunted my entire life!”

"I don't know you," MC insisted.

Rin let out a humorous laugh. “You don’t remember me because you didn’t keep me.”

Caleb stiffened. “What does that mean?”

Rin's gaze didn't leave MC. “She comes to me at night, in my dreams, ever since I was five. The Bride in Red. That’s what I named her when I was little. I didn’t know who she was then. Just that she was always crying, always angry, her white wedding dress covered in blood. Always out to get me!”

MC couldn’t breathe.

“I only found out recently,” Rin continued, her voice trembling now. “She showed me. The night she died. The warehouse. The guns. You and my dad walking away.” Her eyes burned into MC’s. “She made me relive it. Over and over and over again!”

Caleb’s looked at MC in shock. “MC,” he said quietly, “what is she talking about?”

“That’s not possible,” MC whispered, though even as she said it, she knew it was a lie.

“Your perfect little wife gave birth to twin girls,” she said angrily. “She didn’t even bother giving us names, she just gave us away like we didn’t matter. We were adopted by different families. I didn’t even know I had a sister until last year when I went looking for MC.”

MC couldn’t speak. She gripped her son hard enough to try and use his presence to calm herself down without hurting him. Her mouth opened, then closed again, her past had found her and was pressing against her from all sides.

“She told me everything,” Rin said. “The Bride in Red told me who you were. Who my birth father is. Who she was. And why she’ll never stop.”

MC’s knees buckled from underneath her. Caleb rushed to catch her and hold her steady, letting Rin hit the ground as his evol released her.

“She isn’t just haunting you and Sylus,” Rin's furious gaze held strong as tears of frustration ran down her face. “She’s tied to your bloodline. To anyone who is born into this family because of what you did.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “She told me she doesn't care. That she'll haunt our bloodline until the end of time! That her mission ends when our bloodline does.”

Caleb's body went rigid. His eyes drifted toward the hallway towards his daughter's bedroom. Last night came back to him in vivid detail, their daughter waking up crying, clinging to him, whispering about a woman standing in her room.

“She was wearing a red and white dress,” she’d said. "She didn't have a face daddy! She was really scary!"

At the time, he’d told himself it was just a nightmare.

Now, he looked back at Rin. “My daughter’s five,” he said quietly. “She had her first nightmare last night. About a woman in a red and white dress with no face”

Rin’s breath caught. “That’s how it starts. And it wasn't a nightmare. She was there. In the room. The longer she's around the more her face appears. Your son will have the same experience when he's older."

Caleb’s teeth clenched. “Then this isn’t just about the past,” he said. “It’s about our children.”

He turned to MC. “You need to tell me everything. Now.”

MC could only cry as her world fell apart again. Caleb's look of shock and betrayal. Her daughter hiding in fear. Her son whimpering against her chest. And her first daughter Rin, a young girl haunted by MC's past mistakes, knowing she will not be the only one.

You had kept your promise.

Not to forgive, or forget, but to endure.

Twenty-five years passed, and Sylus never became whole again.

Time moved forward around him the way it did for everyone else, indifferent and relentless, but something in him remained fixed in the moment everything was lost. He aged. His hair thinned, aging lines carved themselves into his face, not from laughter but from the constant, unrelieved weight of remembering. People who met him later in life described him as distant, irritable, hollow in a way.

MC had left long ago. He came back to the hotel that night after his car accident and found her gone. She didn't even come back to their home to get her items, she just left and never came back. That loss had been bad at first, but it wasn’t what broke him. It was what followed.

You still never left.

He missed MC. But he missed you so much more.

He missed the woman who had loved him without any terms and conditions. The wife who had believed in him and supported him. The wife who built a future filled with life and love. The future he had taken and crushed so thoroughly that even death hadn’t been enough to erase it. Regret settled into him so deeply it became part of his DNA. He apologized aloud sometimes with tears in the eyes and his voice rough, knowing there was no one to hear him but you.

“I know,” he would whisper. “I know I ruined it. I ruined everything."

He tried everything people suggested. Therapy. Religion. Acts of charity meant to balance invisible scales. He dug you from your unmarked grave and built you a beautiful mausoleum, always keeping it clean and stocked with your favorite flowers. Kneeling at your casket begging for your mercy and forgiveness.

He spoke your name like a confession, like a plea, like a prayer. He meant every apology. Every ounce of remorse was real.

He knew you watched him. He could feel your gaze when his back was turned. He would feel your cold spots and lingered there in your presence, then feel it get warm as you drifted away. Sometimes he would hear your footsteps, or see you move something in the house.

But it was his dreams that you really dominated.

When you appeared, it was not as you were when you died, but as you had been before everything soured. You sat beside him on the couch, fingers laced through his hair. The teasing touches when you passed by him and giggling when he tried to return the favor. The excited look on your face when you cooked something new for him. You laughed in those dreams. You smiled in those dreams. You kissed him in those dreams. Sometimes you spoke his name the way you used to, with pure adoration.

And every time, without fail, he woke up without you. Staring at the ceiling as he had to once again face reality.

There would be no forgiveness. No release. No moment where the weight lifted and the past softened.

When the knock on his door came, he assumed it was a mistake. No one ever came to him. Luke and Kieran only came when called.

He opened the door to find a woman standing on the threshold, eerily calm and visibly tired in a way that immediately unsettled him. She was young, mid-twenties at most, short white haired with vibrant red eyes.

“Are you Sylus? And did you have an intimate relationship with a woman named MC” she asked.

He nodded slowly. “Yes, and yes.”

“My name is Mara,” she said. “You’re my father.”

The words struck him all at once, but he didn't react right away.

MC had never returned. She had changed all of her contact info and left Linkon. He had been left with absence and guilt, nothing more. He stepped aside, letting Mara into the house, and they sat across from one another at the small kitchen table.

"MC didn't tell me she was pregnant," Sylus said.

"She had twins," Mara elaborated. "Her name is Rin, we were adopted by different families as babies. I know where she is, I just haven't spoken to her yet."

"Did you ever find MC?"

"Yes. Though when I tried to speak to her she turned me away. Apparently Rin found her when she was only thirteen. MC and her new husband's marriage was never the same after that. Caleb, her husband, said it was a 'stay together for the kids' arrangement…Did you want her contact information?"

"No," Sylus said immediately. "It's best if she stays away from me."

Mara spoke after a moment of awkward silence. “I didn’t come for reconciliation, or money, or explanations about your life. I came because of her.”

Sylus looked at her. "About MC?"

“No,” Mara corrected. “The Bride in Red. That’s what I called her when I was a child. She first appeared when I was five. A woman with a featureless face, wearing a wedding dress covered in blood. Standing in my doorway, or sitting at the end of my bed. Watching me.” Her voice remained steady, but there was a slight strain in it now. “She never hurt me. She just stayed. And when I got older, I saw her face, and she showed me things. A warehouse. Guns. A woman bleeding on the floor. You walking away, with my mom, the other woman.”

Sylus closed his eyes, the familiar ache in his heart blooming into something ugly.

“I know who she is now,” Mara said quietly. “I know who you are, and what you and my mother did to her.” She met his gaze again, unwavering. “I’m not here to punish you. She’s already done that.”

Sylus swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry. He stared at her for a long moment before speaking, his voice rough and stripped of pretense. “So why are you here?”

“I have a son. My husband and I adopted him when he was two.” Mara went on. “He’s five years old now. Last month, he told me there was a woman in his room. The Bride in Red.”

Sylus’s hands began to shake uncontrollably.

“And I’m pregnant now,” Mara said. “Another boy she will undoubtably haunt as well.” She rested a hand over her stomach, protective and afraid. “I need to know how to make her stop. I need to know how to keep my children safe.”

Sylus stared down at the table, at the grain of the wood, at anything but her face. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely more than breath.

“There isn’t a way.”

Mara went still. "What?"

“I’ve spent twenty-five years trying,” he said, the words breaking free at last. “Apologies. Confessions. Regret. I begged and cried and pleaded. I built her a mausoleum and see here every morning at sunrise. I punished myself in every way I knew how. None of it mattered.” He looked up at his daughter, at the life he had never known and the future already tainted by his choices.

“I killed her,” Sylus said, the truth as devastating as it had ever been. “I didn't leave and give her a chance to be happy. To start over and live. I lied, and cheated, and I thought that killing her would be the end of it.” His voice broke completely. “I didn’t just destroy her life. I destroyed mine. And now—” He gestured helplessly. “Now it’s yours. And your children’s.”

“So there’s nothing I can do,” she muttered. She used the back of her hand to wipe away her tears.

Sylus shook his head slowly. “There’s nothing anyone can do. I'm so sorry.”

Some sins did not end with the sinner. Because some ghosts did not want justice or mercy or closure. They wanted remembrance. They wanted acknowledgment that what was taken had mattered.

Sylus would live out the rest of his days knowing with perfect clarity, that he had been loved fully once, and that it was you he had condemned to die, but you had sentenced him to remember.

His family had not been cursed. It had been claimed.

You had promised to stay. And you always kept your promises.

YAY! First Love and Deepspace story. I was hesitant to write for the game because I was having a hard time coming up anything good. But the moment I saw that post with that picture this idea just came to me! Hopefully y'all liked it and support me in the future.