Married to a Ghost

I've failed to conceive despite being married for two years. Initially, I think it's because there's something wrong with me. I take various medications and undergo treatment.

The night that I want to ask my husband, Sebastian Lockwood, to go for a check at the hospital, a voice appears in my mind. "He's not Sebastian! Sebastian's already been dead for three years!"

I handed my husband, Sebastian Lockwood, his pajamas and said, "Maybe you should go for a checkup tomorrow. I've been taking the medicine, but it doesn't seem to be working. The doctor warned me that if I keep taking it, my health's only going to get worse."

Sebastian frowned at that. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words followed.

He always seemed especially irritable when it came to this topic.

Sitting beside him, I wrapped my arms around his waist and spoke gently, "Seb, we've been trying to have a baby for so long. You know how much I've always wanted one, but I—"

Before I could finish, Sebastian took my hand. He let out a sigh and said with a hint of reluctance, "Fine. Whatever you want."

I knew he couldn't resist me when I acted like this. Tightening my arms around his waist, I rested my head on his shoulder and brushed my cheek against him like a kitten seeking comfort.

His body stiffened for a moment at my touch.

Puzzled, I glanced up at him.

Sebastian reached out his large hand and gently stroked my hair. His voice was weary as he said, "Alright, get some rest now."

As we lay down together, I turned on my side to watch him, taking in his eyes, his nose, and his lips.

Suddenly, a voice rang in my head, shattering the quiet night like a thunderclap. "That's not the real Sebastian! He died three years ago!"

My breath hitched as I bolted upright and scanned the room frantically. "Who said that? Who's there?"

There was no response, only Sebastian, who was startled awake by my scream.

He reached over and flicked on the bedside lamp. His expression was unreadable under the dim light, but his tone held a trace of concern. "What's wrong, Juliette? Did you have a nightmare?"

I stared at him, frozen. I couldn't tell if the voice earlier was real or just my imagination.

For a split second, Sebastian's features seemed to shift and blur.

I blinked hard, and there he was again—his familiar, cold self.

Overwhelmed by a sudden wave of emotion, I buried myself in his arms. "You used to call me Juls."

He paused, as if caught off guard, then gently patted my back like soothing a child. "Alright, alright. It's fine. Just a bad dream. Lie down and get some rest."

I did as he said, slowly lying down. With Sebastian's comforting touch, I drifted off into a deep sleep filled with strange dreams all night.

The next morning, I woke up early to find Sebastian's side of the bed empty. The pillow was still faintly warm. I sat up abruptly and hurried downstairs.

From the staircase, I caught sight of him finishing his breakfast and getting ready to leave for work.

I immediately ran out the door. Watching his figure as he got into the car, I parted my lips, but no sound came out.

As the cold began to seep into the soles of my feet, I realized that in my rush to get downstairs, I hadn't put on any slippers. The early autumn air was already starting to get chilly. As I felt the coldness on my feet, I couldn't help but shiver.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I hurried back inside and slipped on a pair of fuzzy slippers before heading to the kitchen.

The countertop was spotless except for a sandwich and a cup of soy milk Sebastian had left for me.

I remembered telling him before that I hated milk the most in the mornings and that I'd be happy with just a cup of soy milk every day.

Sebastian had remembered that clearly. For the past few years since we'd been married, I'd had a cup of soy milk every morning.

For some reason, the memory of last night's scream suddenly resurfaced in my mind, leaving me more confused than ever. I couldn't tell whether it was a dream or reality.