I swear I saw him. I felt him. I kissed him. I tasted the cool mint on his breathjust like always. Hed even thrown on that oversized grey hoodie that always made him look like a softhearted bruiser. He was there, real, and he held me through the night, whispering I love you into my ear. He promised wed marry next year. I can replay every second: the way his fingers slipped down my arm, the way he cried when I cried, the way he made love to me with such fire I thought my soul would split in two. And then he vanished.
I woke up alone, but I wasnt frightened. I blamed it on a jog Id gone for, as I sometimes did. His aftershave still lingered on the sheets, and my skin still smoldered where hed touched me. Something just didnt fit.
I called.
Again.
And again.
Then my best friend, Molly Hart, burst into my flat, her face ashen. She didnt understand why I was sobbing.
Alex you dont know? she whispered.
I laughed. Know what?
Harrys dead.
I blinked. Dead how?
She sobbed louder. Two days ago. Car crash on the night the storm rolled in.
No. No. No.
I shouted, shoved her away, called her cruel for saying it, said it was a joke. I showed her the text Harry had sent the night before, the voice note that said, Im coming over. I miss your body against mine. She stared at the phone, shaking.
Alex he couldnt have sent that. He was already in the mortuary.
The world tilted.
My knees gave way.
I ran to the bathroom, grabbed the towel hed used, still damp. The hoodie hed left on the floor. The bite mark on my neck.
He had been there.
He had to be.
The truth, though, was that Harry had been buried yesterday.
And somehow, Id made love to him last night.
Days passed. Nights became unbearable. I couldnt sleep. Every time I shut my eyes, I saw himsometimes standing at the foot of my bed, sometimes whispering in my ear. One night his voice drifted to me: Dont cry, love. Im still with you. I tried to record it, but all I got was static and my own ragged breathing.
Then I missed my period.
Twice.
I chalked it up to stress, grief, trauma.
Until I vomited for the fifth time in one day.
I took a test.
Two lines.
Positive.
I collapsed.
The only person Id been with was Harry.
But he was dead. Buried. Rotting. Gone.
Yet something was growing inside me.
Something kicking in the night.
Something that glowed under my skin when the lights were out.
And every time I broke down and told myself I couldnt handle it
I heard a whisper from the shadows:
Youre not alone. Our child is coming.
—
I dont remember drifting off. I only recall waking up in the bathtub, the pregnancy test still clenched in my hand, those two pink lines mocking my sanity. I hadnt spoken to anyone in daysnot even Molly. My phone rang dozens of times, her name flashing on the screen. I ignored every call.
How could I explain I was carrying a child from a man who had been six feet under for weeks? Who would believe me? Not even I fully believed myselfuntil that night.
Id barely dozed when something pressed against my belly from inside. It wasnt a normal kick. It felt deliberate, almost intelligent, as if trying to get my attention. I sat up, gasping, hands on my stomach. Then I heard him again.
Harrys voice, inside my head.
Dont be scared, love. I chose you.
I screamed and bolted from the bed. I stared at my belly in the mirror, lifting my shirt. I could swear I saw a faint blue pulse just beneath my skin. It flickered then vanished. My legs went weak; I collapsed, sobbing.
The next day I forced myself to the hospital. I told the doctor Id become pregnant after Harry visited me. I lied about dates, about everythingexcept the symptoms.
Strange dreams. Skin that glows. Hearing voices of someone who isnt there.
The doctors expression shifted from concern to a calm suspicion.
Well run some tests, she said cautiously. Stress can do a lot to the mind, especially with pregnancy hormones.
She pressed her stethoscope to my belly. Her face went pale.
I cant hear a heartbeat. Somethings moving.
She ordered an ultrasound. While I lay on the cold metal table, the sonographers face went as white as a sheet. She adjusted the scanner, saying nothing until I asked.
Theres a fetus, she whispered, but its shining.
I left the hospital without waiting for the results. That night I dreamed again. Harry stood at our old favourite spot by the lake, the wind tugging at his hooded hoodie.
Our child isnt like the others, he said, voice softer than the breeze. Hes me and more.
What do you mean? I asked.
He only gave a sad smile. Youll understand soon. But you must protect him.
I awoke to find the curtains wide open, though Id locked everything. The hoodie from the dream lay neatly folded at the foot of my bed. I touched it; it was still warm.
Thats when I knewwhat was growing inside me was real. It was his. And it was changing me.
The next day I finally called Molly. I needed help. She rushed over, wrapped me in a fierce hug, and listened as I showed her the glowing spot on my belly, recounted the dreams, the voice, the baby.
She didnt laugh.
She didnt scream.
She whispered, We need to get you somewhere safe.
She led me to an old cottage hidden behind her grandmothers church. Inside sat an elderly woman with long silver braids and pale eyes. She looked at me once, then said,
Youre not the first. Youll be the last.
I asked what she meant; her answer chilled me to the bone.
You carry the child of a bound spirit. That baby is both a blessing and a warning. Its father should never have returned. Now a door is open, and others are crossing.
Take it away? I asked.
Take you away.
The lights flickered. A cold draft swooped through the windows. From the darkness I heard Harrys voice again:
Run.
—
The room grew icy. The old womans eyes widened as shadows stretched across the walls like claws.
Hes here, she whispered, clutching a rosary of oak beads and bone.
Molly shoved me behind her.
I wasnt afraid of Harry any more. I feared the others the old woman spoke ofthose who came because hed broken the rules.
She scattered ash in a circle and told me to stand inside.
Dont leave that circle, no matter what. Do you hear me? she warned. Youre now a bridge between life and death. Bridges carry traffic both ways.
I stepped into the circle. My belly glowed with that same unsettling light. The baby kicked harder than ever.
Then voices filled the airdozens, maybe hundredsshouts, moans, pleas, laughter, all emanating from the gloom.
Tari, please, I whispered. Whats happening?
I saw him.
He was different now. His eyes were empty, swollen with sorrow and fear.
Im sorry, he said. I never meant to drag you into this. I just missed you so much. Wanted one more night, one more moment. I didnt know I was opening a door.
Tears streamed down my cheeks.
Why me? Why the baby?
He stared at my belly, then at me.
Because our love was stronger than death. But love like that breaks the laws.
Suddenly a twisted, monstrous figure emerged from the shadows, halfface, eyes like coals. It whistled at the sight of me.
Harry stepped between us.
You cant have her! he roared. You cant take our child!
The monster laughed.
You broke the rule, spirit. You touched the living. Now we feast.
The room shook. The old woman began chanting in an ancient tongue. Molly clutched my hand, crying.
Alex! Stay inside the circle!
I screamed as the monster lunged. Harry slammed into it midair. The old woman shouted:
NOW! Choose, child! Life or love?
Harry, bloodied and fading, turned to me.
You have to let me go, love. For our child. For you.
I shook my head, sobbing.
No, I cant lose you again!
You never lost me. I live in him now. In you. But if you cling, theyll take everything.
The lights burst. The floor cracked. Shadows howled. With every ounce of heartache I raised my voice, shouting his name and saying goodbye.
He smiled as he vanished.
Darkness receded. The monster shrieked and dissolved into smoke. Silence fell.
I collapsed. The circle dimmed. My baby kicked once, then again, then settled.
Nine months later I gave birth to a boy. He didnt cry like other infants. He just stared at me, quiet and calm, as if he already knew everything. His skin faintly glowed in the dark. And sometimes, when I sing to him at night, I swear I hear a second voice harmonising with mineHarrys.
I named him Harry Jr., a nod to the man who never truly left.
Before he crossed over, he left me one final gift.
A piece of himself a fragment no shadow can ever steal.
The end.