Separated.

In the evening, a man lay in bed reading something on his phone. Sunken red eyes struggled to process the words on the page, and he found himself reading the same sentence for the fifth time. Minutes later, the phone lay abandoned by his lowered hand and the man found himself too exhausted to keep himself awake any longer.

Shallow breathing was the only audible sound to be heard as he slept, unaware that he hadn’t been in the room alone.

After he closed his eyes, the woman standing by the wall let out a short sigh. She was now faintly visible, her skin shimmering with a soft blue in the dimly lit room. She had been watching his every move, from the moment he stepped in with messy hair and tear stained cheeks. As he slept, she walked slowly towards the bed, ignoring every slightly glowing footprint she left behind.

Wondering what kept him awake for so long, Sophia picked up the discarded phone, only to smile bitterly as she watched it fall seconds later. With more energy that any would find necessary for the task, she lifted the phone again and managed to hold it long enough to read the words on its dim screen.

“Jason, I can’t remember when I first fell in love with you. Maybe it was the day you messed up your kitchen learning how to cook my favourite food or maybe it was when we went ice-skating and fell all over the rink. We spent most of our days together that year, and somewhere in between, you went from a man I was slightly fond of to the person I loved.”

Looking at the familiar words, her chest felt a bit heavier, and with a slight smile, she forced her eyes shut, holding back tears.

It was an excerpt from “Entranced”, the book she was writing as a present for their fourth wedding anniversary. In it, she wrote everything she could remember about their relationship; their first meeting on the 5th of June, dates they’d been on their first year together, the things they’d given each other, birthdays spent together, travels together, the day they got engaged, the wedding held a year after their first meeting, the day they got their first pet, then the next, then the third.

Every inside joke, every thoughtful gesture, each moment she remembered, big or little, happy, angry or sad, she had wanted to write it all down, have it printed and hand it over with a smile. Laughing as she told him the words written in the book’s dedication,

“To Jason,

I’ve cherished every moment with you, and I’m looking forward to many more. Happy Anniversary, I love you.”

But the book remains incomplete,

Printing office was never contacted.

Our anniversary’s in two months,

And “Entranced” has become a condolence gift

Because I died.

It was rather unexpected, and I still don’t quite understand how it happened. Six days ago I was perfectly fine, but when I woke up the next day everything was different.

At first, I didn’t know if I was still asleep, everything was numb, like there was rift between my body and all senses I would usually perceive. It was dark, silent and cold, three things I’ve always hated but there was nothing I could do to change it, my body wouldn’t move. I was feeling extremely energetic but I couldn’t get myself to blink and honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure if I was still breathing.

In that strange state, I felt like I was floating, the bed seemed to have disappeared, the pillows and blankets too. Nothing was touching me, or maybe it was, I couldn’t tell. Minutes, maybe hours, passed before the world got a bit brighter again. But with that light came a stronger feeling of unease. Staring straight in the dark, in the silent room made me sure whatever was happening wasn’t just a dream, I was conscious. And something was definitely wrong with me, because I still couldn’t feel my body.

Later, things were finally visible again, but the first thing I saw wasn’t the usual grey-painted walls, it wasn’t the closed black curtains, or the pictures and posters we’d put up. There was a face in front of me, and it wasn’t Jason’s.

It was mine.

Resting on a familiar blue pillow, was a head that looked just like mine, wearing the purple pyjamas I had worn the night before, in her arms, was the stuffed teddy bear that I bought for myself two years ago. Her face was terribly pale, her eyebrows were furrowed and she was frowning, but I couldn’t deny that the woman curled up on the bed, holding my teddy, was me.

But if that’s me...

Then what am I now?

I could feel myself shivering, though I don’t know if I really did. Looking at that face, I was getting dizzy. If I still have a heart, then it should have been beating terribly fast, even if it wasn’t, something in my chest was aching badly.

I wanted to turn away but my limbs wouldn’t listen and my gaze was fixed on her. With nothing else to do except panic, I stared at the only thing in view that wasn’t frightening, a cute pink stuffed bear, and let my thoughts scatter.

It’s ridiculous but this should be my body.

So what’s happening to me now?

This could be a freakishly long out of body experience.

Or a lucid dream?

It would be nice to wake up sooner, preferably in my body, with everything working the way it was before.

.....

This is so weird.

What time is it? If it’s around 8:30, then Jason will be getting up soon.

This is going to be hard to explain when I wake up.

He’s going to panic if he sees how pale my body is, plus it looks like I was in pain. He’s going to be terrified.

I need to get up soon.

How the hell do I wake up?

Get up. Get up! GET UP!!!

......

Time passed quickly while I was lost in my thoughts, soon, I could see and hear again, my vision clear but uncontrollable and my hearing somewhat muffled, like all sounds were coming through water. A hand stretching upwards with a black and silver ring on its fourth finger let me know my husband was no longer asleep. He was waking up, but I was still trapped outside my body.

Watching him gently pull my still body closer, give it a quick kiss on the cheek I couldn’t feel, and mutter, feeling distressed, about how my skin was way too cold. It hurt. It hurt more than the worst injury I’d ever received. Struggling to call his name as loudly as I could, but my lips didn’t even twitch and the sound of my cries were only echoing in my head.

Receiving a non-existent reply, he shook the body a few times with trembling hands, while saying my name repeatedly, each one louder, faster and more agitated than the last. I still couldn’t see his face, but from what I could hear, he was anxious, almost hysterical.

After failing to wake up once again, I watched him lift my body while trembling, and with it’s movement, I could see something other than my face. I watched him run to the car and drive towards the hospital, calling their emergency line and stuttering to explain the situation as he sped over.

They informed him of my death, more than an hour after he arrived. The coroner invited by the hospital staff told them that I had died before he got there, of a seizure in my sleep. It was unbelievably bizarre, looking at my corpse and hearing the details of my death with my husband by my side, unable to see or hear me.

Now, gazing at my lover sleeping on our bed, I raised a translucent hand and placed it on his cheek. My fingers moved in a habitual pattern on his skin, tracing the lines and marks I knew all too well. I forgot that these blue fingers were as light as a feather and there was no warmth in their touch, so to the sleeping man it was an icy wind brushing across his face. He shuddered.

The man who adored her the most, now shuddered at her touch.

It was heart breaking. Pulling my hand away from his shivering skin, I moved away from him and drifted to the floor by the edge of the bed. There was a lump in my throat that wouldn’t leave, and my shoulders had started to quiver. Ghosts couldn’t cry, but my eyes felt sore.

Floating over the floor, I buried my head in my knees, allowing my quivering body to sob. But I doubt any sound would come out, and not a single tear could fall.

Perhaps I was wrong and my wailing was heard, because Jason moved on the bed. By the time I turned to face him, he was looking in my direction with half-lidded eyes, the joy in his hazy gaze tugged at my heart.

“Sophia.” He whispered my name, stretching his hand towards me, but his hand paused the moment before it could touch me.

We were both unsure if this moment was real. Looking at the gaunt appearance of the man who owned my heart, I was stunned to find that my cheeks were wet. I was crying.

Feeling unconfident, I slowly reached out to his outstretched hand and tentatively held it.

A pale, thin hand held my mine tightly, before pulling me in his direction and hugging me as tightly as he could. The man kept whispering my name as he held me, and we were both crying in each others’ arms. I don’t know how it happened, but for now, he could see me again, and I could feel his touch.

For some reason, I couldn’t help but laugh, and a genuine smile was plastered onto my face. Hearing my giggles, Jason grinned. The first smile I had seen from him since my passing.

I don’t know if it was because we managed to see each other again, maybe it was because I, a soul, actually found a way to shed tears and hold him with hands that weren’t just freezing wind to the touch, but after our hug I started to feel faint. For the first time since my death, I was feeling lethargic, and the thought of what that could mean, what might come next, filled me with dread.

I don’t want to leave him again.

I don’t want to disappear.

I’m already dead, where else can my spirit go?

With all the thoughts racing through my head, I held the man hugging me tighter, hoping my guesses were wrong.

“What’s wrong?” He asked hoarsely. He hadn’t been speaking properly these days, and when he did, it was in whispers, murmurs and mumblings, so his voice was much rougher than usual.

We’ve known each other for five years, and for the first time since our marriage, I wanted to lie to him, to tell him there was nothing wrong, it was fine, because the truth would be too painful. I had been watching him this past week, anytime I could move, my soul was following him. I saw the hopeful look in those beautiful brown eyes dim when the nurse walked out shaking her head. I witnessed his collapse at the hospital when the doctor said I was dead. I had seen him breakdown in most of the rooms in our home, watched the hair he loved to take care of most grow messy and a short stubble form on his chin. I could only float nearby, like a bystander, while he was crying on the phone telling our friends and relatives that I was gone. I don’t want him to watch me leave again.

But we once promised each other honesty.

“I think I’m about to go again.” With a slight cry in my voice, I managed to give a response that was barely audible, hoping he wouldn’t hear it.

But the room was too silent, and we were too close to each other, so he heard me anyway.

His body stiffened, but only a few tenths of a second passed before he put his head against my neck.

“Last time...Did it hurt?” The shoulder his head was against was a bit wet, and I could feel him quivering again. The man, who was always jovial, making people laugh and enjoying life, hadn’t been happy in days, and now he’s crying again because of me.

“I didn’t feel it.”

Though it looked like it had hurt, I hadn’t felt a thing when it happened. Even now, I feel no pain as my body disappears. My feet have vanished, the translucent shimmer is gone, I can’t see or feel them anymore and unlike six days ago, I could sense that they had truly faded away.

The rest of me is going too, dissipating without a trace.

“Okay, it’s okay.” He chuckled a bit grimly as he spoke, and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead before continuing.

“I’ll be with you again-.”

“You can’t!” The words left my lips in a hurry, interrupting his dark idea with a plea.

Only my head and neck were left in front of him, things had started to look hazy, but his last statement took away most of my attention. It’s an ironic and selfish thought but I can’t stand the thought of him dying. He deserves a happy life, even if it’s without me.

“Jason, I love you. But if I’m gone, I don’t want to see you for another seventy ye-” My words were cut off as my lips dissipated, but what I had wanted to say was obvious.

As my nose vanished, I looked at him with all the love I felt for him trying to reach him through my eyes, praying the tears falling from them wouldn’t stop him from seeing it.

In another minute, though they were both reluctant to see it happen, Sophia had disappeared.

Jason, who was left behind again, felt an emptiness he couldn’t describe. Having his wife die twice, both times in his presence, was a torture he had never thought he’d experience in his life.

The tormented man stared at the place where she once was, but later found himself gasping for breath and clutching his knees on the bed, sniffing as tears flowed down his splotchy skin. His body racked by sobs, the hyperventilating twenty-seven year old was alone with his grief in the dark bedroom, until he passed out.

In another world, maybe the two were fated to spend decades loving each other, but in this one, with their time together cut short, they could only be separated.