Married to a Ghost

Whenever I confronted Sebastian the next day after that, his expression always seemed a little off.

Come to think of it now, he didn't seem very interested in being intimate. Did he already know something was wrong with his body?

I felt disgusted with my own thoughts and looked up at Sebastian.

Sensing my gaze, he turned to look at me. The moment our eyes locked, the voice from yesterday echoed in my mind. "He's not Sebastian! Sebastian has been dead for three years!"

I quickly averted my gaze and forced an unnatural smile as I changed the subject. Unlike yesterday, I didn't scream or react, but my mind was in turmoil.

Where was this voice coming from? Wasn't Sebastian in front of me?

A few days later, I figured Sebastian's checkup results should be ready. When he came home that evening, I asked him about them.

"Everything's normal," he said, handing me his phone so I could look at the report. He then walked off into the bathroom.

I looked at the various indicators on the report, all of which seemed normal. A sense of doubt crept into my mind.

Both Sebastian and I didn't have any major health issues. My physical condition was weaker, but I had been taking medication to improve it. So why, with everything looking normal, hadn't I been able to get pregnant?

Just then, Sebastian's phone buzzed with a new message. The sender was his cousin, Yvonne Westbrook.

I had never checked Sebastian's phone, but my eyes instinctively flicked over to the screen. There were two messages.

"Do you really plan to keep lying to her?"

"Are you going to bear all the pain alone?"

A sharp pang hit my chest, and my intuition told me it was about me. I glanced toward the bathroom, where the sound of running water still echoed. Without hesitation, I opened the message.

It wasn't just these two recent messages in the conversation. There had been a steady stream of them. Yvonne's words seemed to dominate the screen.

"You can't keep going on like this. Does she still not know anything?

"Do you really plan to have a child?"

"Think of your mom. She's gray-haired from worry."

There were many messages, one after another, full of accusations, blame, and resentment. Sebastian's replies were always brief—"Yes" or "I know".

My fingers felt icy, and my mind went blank. I struggled to process what I was seeing.

Only when I heard Sebastian's footsteps from the bathroom did I snap back to reality. I quickly swiped the screen back to the checkup report and placed the phone back on the bed.

As soon as Sebastian came out of the bathroom, I rushed inside without speaking to him. I feared that he would notice something was off with me.

I turned on the shower, letting the warm water cascade over my skin. I closed my eyes and replayed the messages I had just seen.

I knew something was wrong. Why hadn't Sebastian refuted any of the accusations? His mother had already passed away, so why did Yvonne claim that she was gray-haired from worry?

The puzzle pieces were spinning around me, and the pain in my head was getting worse. I crouched down to relieve the sharp ache in my mind, but the world around me began to blur.

When I opened my eyes, everything was white. I raised my arm, only to pull on the IV line. The sharp pain made me gasp.

The sound echoed loudly in the quiet room, waking the person beside me.

Sebastian sprang out of his chair and rushed to my side. He gently held down my arm, which I couldn't lower due to the pain, and softly placed it back down. "You're awake. Don't move around. You've been asleep for a whole day."

As I looked out the window at the dark night, I was shocked. Was it already the next evening?

Sebastian picked up a bowl of soup from the bedside table. He blew on it to cool it before bringing it to my lips.

"You haven't eaten for a whole day, so you're probably starving. Here, have some soup."

I parted my lips slightly, letting the warm soup slide down my throat. It soothed the dryness and discomfort.

After a few spoonfuls, I motioned for Sebastian to stop. He placed the bowl down and sat beside my bed.