My Ghost Stayed by His Side

My husband Matthews second wife stood outside the precinct interrogation room, holding a paper bag from a high-end deli.

She wore a delicate silk scarf tied around her neck, smiling sweetly as she whispered to the officers that she had brought her husband dinner.

At that exact moment, the serial killer sitting inside the interrogation room casually mentioned that the person who hired him had a distinct, cross-shaped scar on her neck. He even tilted his head, flashing a crooked grin, and told Detective Matthew that he should be very familiar with it.

The atmosphere in the corridor instantly flatlined. Every cop in the vicinity turned their eyes toward Matthew.

Matthews face remained a mask of stone. He demanded to know what the hell that had to do with him.

The killer, Silas, let out a dry, rattling chuckle. Up until now, he had been relaxed, happily spilling the details of a massive contract he took five years ago. A wealthy buyer had set her sights on the victims husband. The buyer ordered Silas to abduct the wife, sever her head, and cut out the unborn child she was carrying on a very specific date.

That date happened to be the exact day of Detective Matthews second wedding.

This sensational, gruesome case had gone unsolved for five years. When the task force finally caught Silas, he was blowing through cash in a five-star hotel. As they slapped the cuffs on him, he didn't even flinch. He just looked amused, openly mocking them for taking half a decade to track him down.

The rich scent of roasted meat and garlic drifted from the deli bag, yet no one was paying attention to the food. Every gaze was locked onto Daphnes neck.

She shrank back slightly, her voice trembling like a startled bird. "Why is everyone staring at me?"

Matthews sharp gaze softened the moment he looked at her. "What are you doing here so late?"

"I heard you guys finally caught that monster. I wanted to bring you something to celebrate."

She tilted her head up, entirely compliant as Matthew reached out and gently untied the silk scarf.

There was indeed a jagged scar marring the pale skin of her throat. It just wasn't shaped like a cross.

Matthews eyes filled with deep, unmistakable affection. He brushed his thumb just below the scarred tissue. "You really should look into getting that laser removal surgery."

"No way," she protested softly. "This is my badge of honor. I got this protecting you. Im keeping it."

The interrogation paused for a recess, and the two of them stood in the bustling precinct, wrapped up in their own private world.

I stood a few feet away, watching them. I was completely numb.

Ever since I died, my soul had been tethered to Matthew. I couldn't leave his side.

Five years was a long time. It was enough time for him to fall genuinely, deeply in love with Daphne. It was also enough time for him to entirely forget his first wife, the woman who had vanished without a trace half a decade ago.

They walked side by side back to his desk to eat. Daphne was an incredible cook, and every dish in that bag was perfectly tailored to Matthews palate.

Watching him eat with such quiet contentment, a memory surfaced from five years ago. Daphne had sat in my kitchen, smiling brightly as she asked me for advice.

"Nora, they say the fastest way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Do you ever cook Matthews favorite meals at home?"

I looked at the woman I considered my absolute best friend in the world and, without a single ounce of suspicion, gave her all of Matthews favorite recipes and dietary quirks.

She used those secrets well. Over the last five years, every single meal she made for him was a dish I had taught her. She succeeded. She captured his stomach, and then she stole his heart.

Daphne packed up the empty containers and prepared to leave. As she stepped out of the bullpen, she glanced back over her shoulder, a picture of innocent curiosity.

"Honey, what was that guy saying earlier? Why did everyone look at me like that?"

Matthew froze for a fraction of a second. He walked over and gently pinched her cheek. "It was nothing. Just the ramblings of a psycho. Head home. Im going to be interrogating him all night, so don't wait up."

The moment the glass doors shut behind Daphne, a junior detective named Bennett practically sprinted out of the observation room. He grabbed Matthews arm, his face pale and slick with sweat.

"He shut down the second you walked out. Matthew, we still haven't found the victim's head. You have to get back in there and break him."

Matthews gentle demeanor vanished, replaced by the hardened, lethal edge of a veteran detective. He marched back into the room.

Silas sat handcuffed to the steel table, completely unfazed by the blinding glare of the overhead lights. He squinted at Matthew, his posture lazy and arrogant.

"Detective Matthew. I hear your lovely wife dropped by with dinner. Tasted pretty good, didn't it?" The upward curve of his lips was grotesque.

Matthew crossed his arms over his chest, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Silas, youre backed into a corner. Stop playing games and start talking."

Silass eyes went wide with mock surprise before he burst into a fit of manic laughter.

"I always heard you were the best on the force. Turns out youre entirely useless. Five years. You couldn't identify the body, you couldn't find the buyer, and now you have to beg the killer to put the pieces together for you."

Matthew lunged forward, slamming his fists onto the metal table with a deafening crash.

"You know exactly why we couldn't identify her! You butchered her, Silas! You severed her head, cut out her child, and submerged the remains in chemicals so the lab couldn't pull a single strand of viable DNA!"

"You will tell me who she is and where you buried the rest of her, or I swear to God..."

"Or what?" Silas sneered, raising his hands. The heavy chains of his cuffs rattled loudly against the steel. "Im already chained to this table. What exactly are you going to do to me?"

Matthew had broken drug lords, cartel enforcers, and psychopaths. But no one had ever pushed him to this level of suffocating rage.

Silas watched him struggle to keep his composure, soaking in the entertainment before deciding to throw him a bone.

"The woman I carved up was the woman who shared your bed for three years. Your ex-wife. Nora."

Silas leaned forward, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. "She had a gorgeous body. The way she screamed when I pinned her down... it was practically music. She begged me to stop. She offered to let me use her all night if I just let her live."

"But I had a job to do. I tied her to that filthy mattress and made sure she kept her eyes open while I took my knife to her stomach." He jerked his chin toward the evidence bags resting on the edge of the desk. "I used that exact hunting knife, by the way."

Matthews head snapped up. The veins in his neck bulged against his skin, pulsing erratically.

"Bullshit," he growled, his voice absolute. "She cheated on me. I saw her with my own eyes. I watched her get on a flight to Europe with another man."

Matthew cracked his knuckles, the sharp popping sounds filling the small room. He refused to look at Silas, speaking more to himself than the killer.

"She was fragile. Always insecure. I yelled at her once, and she decided I didn't love her anymore. So she found someone else. I sent her a hundred texts asking for an explanation. She ignored every single one."

He paused, pressing his thumb hard against his index finger until the joint popped again. He finally glared at Silas.

"I saw her social media updates. Shes in the Swiss Alps right now, skiing with her new boyfriend. Making up a sick ghost story isn't going to save you from a lethal injection. Or what, did Nora pay you to come here and mess with my head?"

Silas stared at Matthew, his chest heaving with silent, uncontrollable laughter.

"When I cut her head off, her eyes were so wide. I couldn't get the eyelids to close, no matter how hard I tried. I always wondered why she died with such a horrific grudge. Now I get it. It was you."

Matthew acted as if he hadn't heard a word. He pulled out his phone, swiped furiously, and shoved the screen right into Silass face.

"We deal in facts in this building, Silas. Heres a photo from last month. Shes alive. Shes thriving. Youre a liar."

I floated closer, my gaze locking onto the glowing screen.

It was a picture of my face, pressed intimately against the cheek of a man I didn't even recognize.

Matthews face was devoid of emotion, but a phantom pain ripped through my chest.

I didn't understand. Matthew, that isn't me. Its edited. Why couldn't you see that? Why didn't you recognize your own wife?

Silas rested his chin in his hands, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "Detective, you can wave that fake picture in my face all day, but nothing beats seeing the truth with your own eyes."

"Ill only say this once. Five years ago, a woman with a fresh, unhealed scar on her neck tracked me down. She paid me a fortune to execute Nora on the fourteenth of May."

"I asked her why that specific date. She smiled and told me that Noras death was going to be her wedding present. To celebrate her marriage to Noras husband."

Matthews breathing hitched. His spine snapped entirely rigid.

"Youre completely insane. If you won't talk, Ill let the boys in the basement have a turn with you."

He stood up, his movements stiff and uncoordinated. His hand was just inches from the door handle when Silass voice slithered through the air again.

"Right before I ended it, I let her call you."

"You picked up. But she couldn't even get a word out before she heard you and your new bride going at it in the background."

Matthew whipped his head around, slamming right into Silass mocking stare.

"You have no idea how utterly destroyed she looked," Silas said casually. "So, as a final favor, she begged me to bury her and the kid somewhere you would have to drive past every single day."

Matthew froze. His lungs stopped working.

There was a specific, scenic shortcut he took to the precinct every morning. Only two people in the world knew about it.

Matthew stormed out of the room, shouting orders to mobilize a forensics team to that exact stretch of road.

Once the chaotic flurry of officers cleared the hallway, he slumped against the concrete wall, trying to drag oxygen into his lungs.

I crouched beside him, a sad, bitter smile touching my lips as I watched him fall apart.

Matthew was two years younger than me. When we were together, he always tried to act stoic and mature, but underneath it all, he was just a stubborn kid. Now, five years later, the job had stripped that away. He had seen the worst of humanity. He was the legendary Detective Matthew.

I watched him for a long time.

He took a jagged breath, pulling his phone from his pocket. His thumb hovered over the screen, shaking slightly, before he dialed a number he had memorized years ago.

It rang once before someone picked up.

Matthew didn't even wait for a greeting. His voice tore through the quiet hallway, vicious and raw.

"Nora, do you think this is a joke? How much did you pay that psychopath to sit in my interrogation room and lie to my face?"

"You are completely out of your mind. You hired a serial killer? Are you not terrified hes going to turn around and butcher you for real?"

He stopped talking. His chest heaved violently, betraying the sheer panic boiling underneath his anger.

Total silence stretched across the line. Then, a deep, unfamiliar male voice replied.

"Hey, buddy, I think youve got the wrong number. Theres no Nora here."

Matthew turned to stone. He pulled the phone back and stared at the screen.

It was the right number. It was the matching couples phone plan we had bought for our last anniversary. Our numbers were identical except for the very last digit.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice dropping into a dangerous snarl. "Youre the guy she ran off with, aren't you? Listen to me"

"Dude, no. Im an accountant. I bought this number from the carrier four years ago. Have a good night."

The call clicked off. Matthew stood completely paralyzed.

During the first year after I died, he would call that disconnected number every single night, screaming his frustrations into the void. Over time, as he built a new life with Daphne, the calls stopped. He eventually learned to forget the woman who had supposedly ruined him.

Time moves on. The dead stay dead, and the living forget. Everything that once tied us together had faded into dust.

I reached out, wrapping my translucent arms around his shoulders in a phantom hug, just like I used to when he was stressed.

He stood there in silence for a long minute. Then, he bolted. He sprinted down the hall like a man on fire.

I was dragged along behind him by our tether. I watched him throw his cruiser into gear, tires screeching as he sped toward the route he took every day.

The rural road was already swarming with flashing red and blue lights. Crime scene tape glowed violently in the dark. An excavator idled nearby, its massive metal claw digging into the earth.

Matthew ignored the perimeter guards, marching straight to a small curve near an old oak tree.

There was a completely unremarkable stone sitting in the dirt. I had placed it there myself.

He dropped to his knees, his eyes bloodshot, his fingers digging desperately into the damp soil.

"Is it here?" he whispered to himself. "You told me you got this stone blessed at a cathedral... you said you buried it on my route to keep me safe."

I let out a heavy sigh as the night wind rushed past us.

He stood up, wiping the wet dirt from his palms onto his slacks. "Bring the machine in. Dig right here."

No one questioned him. The mechanical arm tore into the ground. The heavy, metallic scent of overturned soil filled the air.

Matthew stared into the widening pit, his thumb unconsciously digging hard into his own palm.

It was a nervous tic he had whenever he was terrified. I used to scold him for it constantly. I leaned in, whispering in his ear to stop hurting himself. But he couldn't hear me anymore.

The excavator hit the three-foot mark. Metal scraped loudly against metal.

"We hit something! It looks like a steel trunk!" an officer yelled.

Matthews breath hitched. He practically threw himself into the ditch.

It was a heavy, reinforced lockbox. No one knew what was inside. The forensics team promised they could drill the electronic lock within twenty-four hours.

Matthew didn't say a word. He just knelt in the dirt in his ruined suit, his fingers hovering over the keypad.

I stood right behind him, watching as he typed in the first combination.

0-5-1-9.

The day of our anniversary.

Shortly after our wedding, I had rested my head on his chest and told him, "This date means everything to me. You and Daphne are the only two people in the world who know why. Youre my family."

Matthew held his breath and hit the enter key.

The lock flashed red. Access denied.

The frantic pounding in his chest began to slow. He stumbled backward, retreating from the center of the pit, his eyes completely hollow as he stared right through me.

He was entirely lost in his own mind.

A split second later, a soft, familiar voice echoed behind him.

"Honey, what are you doing out here? What's May 19th?"

Matthew answered purely on reflex, his mind still somewhere else.

The moment the words left his mouth, the warm, concerned smile on Daphnes face twisted into something ugly and panicked. She instantly smoothed her features back into a mask of innocence.

"I have no idea. Nora never mentioned that date to me."

It had been five years. This was the first time either of them had spoken my name to the other.

The silence between them was thick and suffocating.

I stood in the shadows, glaring at Daphne.

Liar. You know exactly what that date means. No one knows better than you.

Daphne and I had been best friends for over a decade. She was charismatic, beautiful, and loved by everyone. I was timid and socially anxious. She was the only friend I had. I told her everything.

Seven years ago, I confessed to her, "There's a guy in my history seminar. I think Im falling for him."

The day I met Matthew was May 19th.

Daphne pushed me to go after him. I stepped entirely out of my comfort zone to get his attention. We confessed, we dated, we got married. It was a fairy tale.

But as time went on, Daphne began embedding herself deeper into our lives. I thought she just missed me. Yet, every single time she came around, Matthew and I would end up in a screaming match.

I couldn't figure out why. I broke down once, begging him to tell me what was wrong. He just stared at me with this complex, utterly cold expression and walked away.

Our marriage began fracturing at the seams. We fought, we cried, we tried desperately to glue the pieces back together.

During one of our worst cold wars, I found out I was pregnant.

I wanted to surprise him. I spent two weeks secretly planning a romantic dinner, hoping a baby would be the miracle that saved us. When everything was ready, I asked Daphne to bring him to the apartment.

I waited from sunset until midnight. Neither of them showed. I finally went out looking for them.

I turned the corner near his precinct, only to find them holding each other tightly under the streetlights.

All the fighting, all the sleepless nights, suddenly made perfect, devastating sense.

They were sleeping together.

I lost my mind. I threw the heavy, glass-encased gift box I was holding straight at Matthew.

Daphne threw herself in front of him. The shattered glass sliced across her neck.

Blood poured from the wound. She collapsed, clutching her throat, crying hysterically.

Matthew caught her, his face twisting in absolute fury as he glared at me. "Nora, are you psychotic?! Look at what you just did!"

Daphne gripped his jacket, her voice trembling. "Matthew, don't yell at her... she just misunderstood..."

"Misunderstood?" Matthews teeth locked together. "Is it a misunderstanding that I saw her checking into a hotel room with another guy three days ago?!"

"What the hell did I ever do to make you betray me like this, Nora?!"

I stood frozen. The world went black at the edges. A violent ringing tore through my ears.

My mind was a tangled mess of static. I realized someone had set me up. There was a massive web of lies between us, but before I could untangle a single thread, the blood from Daphnes neck dripped through her fingers and splashed onto the pavement.

Matthew didn't give me a chance to speak. He hauled Daphne into his car, fixing me with a look of pure disgust. Like I was a monster.

"Go home. Were done talking for tonight."

I took a shaky breath, swallowing the bile rising in my throat. "Fine. Ill wait for you at the house. Were going to figure this out."

His taillights faded into the distance. I turned around to make the short walk home.

I barely made it three blocks before a rag soaked in chloroform was slammed over my nose and mouth.

After that, there was only darkness. I lost all concept of time in that basement. By the time I finally saw the light of day again, Silas was standing over me with a knife.

I had been trying to walk home for five years. I still hadn't made it.

A rookie cop came scrambling up to Matthew, his chest heaving.

"Detective... the tech team popped the lock." The kid looked like he was about to be sick. He couldn't finish his sentence.

Matthews heart hammered against his ribs. He shoved through the crowd of uniforms and stared down into the dirt.

The moment he saw what was inside, every drop of blood vanished from his face.