Rebirth Into My Second Chance

The car screeched to a halt, jerking Claude from his tipsy slumber against my shoulder. I thought he sought comfort there, but then I chastised myself for such wishful thinking. After all, I was dead. What more could I possibly hope for?

Once Claude stumbled back into our house, he clumsily went upstairs, shedding his prized suit and tie with a defeated grace. Standing before our empty bed, I could feel his hesitation. He probably loathed the idea of sleeping in a bed I had once occupied. In the past, any

bed I had slept in would be discarded the next day with me on it.

I thought he would retreat to his study for the night. However, against all expectations, he slowly approached our bed. His usual cleanliness was gone. He didn't even shower before collapsing into bed.

Soon after, he sat up, rifled through his jacket for his phone, and dialed my number, the so-called "Grim Reaper" he had taunted me with in life. I had become his haunting spirit after I died, as he had wished.

"You have reached a number that is currently off."

He tried to call me, but couldn't get through. Frustrated, he threw the phone forward, which passed right through my forehead. I felt nothing.

But then, in a drunken frenzy, he picked up the phone again. This time, he called Richard.

"Richard, did you hide Claire away? Tell her not to bother returning if she doesn't want to. If she dies out there, I won't even claim her body."

her, too. I've already called the cops, but damn it, they only ever contacted you!" Undeterred, Claude furiously typed something into his phone and tossed it onto the nightstand before collapsing back into

is the day after tomorrow. If you don't

be bothered by me again. Once you find

him these past days had exhausted my spirit, but I got compelled to stay by Claude's side, perhaps

of the night. In that flash of

could see me. But then his hand fell

morning, Claude awoke with a groan, his gaze tightening as he surveyed the room. He glanced at his hand as if trying to grasp the remnants of a

back, never come back," he muttered bitterly, irritable, as he stripped off his shirt and headed for

of his despicable

was no denying his appealing physique and the cold, aristocratic beauty of his face, which I

en

phone rang several times, with

his shower, Claude emerged in only a towel, water droplets tracing down his neck to his chest. He casually

this Mr. Claude Hart, husband to Ms.

a police officer based on