**Episode1**
I swear I saw him. I felt his hand, I kissed his lips, I tasted the mintfresh breath that had always been his. He wore the oversized grey hoodie he hated because it made him look like a softhearted bully. He was there, real, and he held me all night, whispering I love you into my ear. He promised wed be married next year. I remember every detail: the way his fingers glided down my arm, how he wept when I wept, how he made love to me with such ferocity I thought my soul might split in two. And then he vanished.
I awoke alone, but I didnt panic. I convinced myself Id gone for a run, as I sometimes did. His cologne still lingered on the sheets, and my skin still tingled where his touch had been. Something didnt fit, though.
I called.
Again.
And again.
Then my best friend, Grace, slipped into my room, her face ashen. She didnt understand why I was crying.
Emily you dont know, do you? she whispered.
I laughed. Know what?
Jack is dead.
I blinked. Dead how?
She sobbed louder. He died two days ago. A car crash on the night of the storm.
No. No. No.
I screamed, shoved her away, called her cruel for saying that, and showed her the text Jack had sent the night before, the voice note that said, Im coming over. I miss your body next to mine. She stared at the phone, trembling.
Emily he couldnt have sent that. Hes already in the mortuary.
The world tilted. My knees gave way. I rushed to the bathroom, grabbed the towel hed used still damp the hoodie hed left on the floor, the faint bitemark on my neck.
He had been there. He must have been.
The truth, however, was that Jack had been buried yesterday. And somehow I had made love to him last night.
Days passed. The nights grew unbearable. I couldnt sleep; every time I closed my eyes I saw him, sometimes 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 only static and my own terrified breathing came back.
Then I missed my period. Twice. I blamed stress, grief, traumauntil I vomited for the fifth time in a single day. I took a pregnancy test. Two pink lines. Positive. I collapsed. The only person Id been with was Jack a man who lay in a coffin, rotting beneath the earth.
Yet something was growing inside me. Something kicked in the night, something that glowed beneath my skin when the lights went out. Whenever I wept and said I couldnt bear it, I felt a faint whisper from the shadows:
Youre not alone. Our child is on the way.
**Episode2**
I dont remember falling asleep. I only recall waking up in the bathtub, the pregnancy test clenched in my hand, those two rosecoloured lines mocking my sanity. I hadnt spoken to anyone for daysnot even Grace. My phone rang dozens of times, her name flashing on the screen, but I ignored every call.
How could I explain that I was expecting a baby from a man who had been buried for weeks? Who would believe me? Not even I fully believed ituntil that night.
Just as I was drifting back to sleep, a pressure rose from within my belly. It wasnt a normal kick; it felt purposeful, almost intelligent, as if trying to get my attention. I sat up, gasping, hands pressed to my stomach. Then I heard his voice again, inside my head.
Dont be afraid, love. I chose you.
I screamed, leapt out of bed, and stared at my reflection in the mirror, lifting my shirt. I could swear I saw a faint blue pulse beneath my skin, flicker, and then vanish. My legs went weak and I collapsed, sobbing.
The next morning I forced myself to the hospital. I told the doctor that Id become pregnant after my boyfriend visited me, lying about dates and everything except the symptoms: strange dreams, a faint glow on my skin, hearing a voice that wasnt 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 when mixed with pregnancy hormones.
She pressed her stethoscope to my belly. Her face froze.
I cant hear a heartbeat, but something is moving.
She ordered an ultrasound. While I lay on the cold metal table, the sonographers face went pale. She adjusted the scanner, silent until I asked what was happening.
Theres a fetus, she whispered, but its glowing.
I left the hospital without waiting for the results. That night I dreamed again. Jack stood by the old pond we used to visit, the wind tugging at his hoodies hood.
Our child isnt like other children, he said, his voice softer than the breeze. He is me and something more.
What do you mean? I asked.
He only smiled sadly. Youll understand soon. You must protect him.
I awoke to find the curtains fully drawn, though I had locked every window. The hoodie from the dream lay neatly folded at the edge of my bed, still warm to the touch. I realized what was growing inside me was real, it was his, and it was changing me.
The next day I finally called Grace. 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 or scream; she whispered, We need to take you somewhere.
She led me to an old house tucked behind her grandmothers church. Inside sat a greyhaired woman with long braids and pale eyes. She looked at me once and said,
Youre not the first, but you must be the last.
When 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. His father should not have returned. The door is now open, and others are crossing.
Whos crossing? I asked.
To take it away and to take you.
Suddenly the lights flickered. A cold draft swept through the windows, and from the shadows I heard Jacks voice again:
Run.
**Episode3**
The room turned icecold. The old womans eyes widened in terror as shadows stretched across the walls like claws.
Hes here, she whispered, clutching a rosary made of bone beads.
Grace shoved me behind her.
But I no longer feared Jack. I feared the others the old woman spoke ofthose that came because he had broken the rules.
She scattered ash in a circle and told me to stand inside.
Dont step out, no matter what. Do you hear me? she warned. You are now a bridge between the living and the dead, and bridges are crossed both ways.
I stepped into the circle. My belly glowed with that same unsettling light. The baby kicked harder than ever.
Then the voices camedozens, maybe hundredsshouts, moans, pleas, laughter, all echoing from the darkness.
Jack, please, I whispered. Whats happening?
And I saw him.
His eyes were empty, filled with sorrow and fear.
Im sorry, he said. I never meant to drag you into this. I just missed you so much. I wanted one more night, one more moment. I didnt know I was opening a doorway.
Tears streamed down my face.
Why me? Why the baby?
He looked at my swelling belly, then at me.
Because our love was stronger than death. Love like that shatters the rules.
From the gloom emerged a twisted, halffaced monster with flaming eyes, whistling a harsh tune.
Dont take her! the creature roared. You cant have our child!
Jack threw himself between us.
You cant have her! the monster sneered. You broke the law, spirit. You touched the living. Now we feast.
The room shook. The old woman began chanting in a language I didnt understand. Grace clutched my hand, tears spilling.
Emily! Stay in the circle! she shouted.
I screamed as the monster lunged. Jack hurled himself at it, and the old womans chant rose to a deafening crescendo.
Choose now, child! Life or love? she cried.
Jack, bleeding and fading, turned to me.
You have to let me go, love. For our child. For you.
I shook my head, refusing.
You never really lost me. I live in him now, in you. But if you cling, they will take everything.
The lights exploded, the floor cracked, shadows howled. With every ounce of strength I could muster I called his name and said goodbye.
He smiled one last time, then vanished. The darkness receded, the monster shrieked and dissolved into smoke, and silence fell.
I collapsed. The circle dimmed. The baby inside me kicked once, then again, and finally settled.
Nine months later I gave birth to a boy. He didnt cry like other infants; he simply stared into my eyes, quiet and serene, as if already knowing 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 mineJacks voice.
I named him JackThomas, meaning Jack belongs to God, because he was never truly mine alone.
Before crossing over, Jack left me one final gift: a piece of himself that no shadow can ever steal.
**Lesson:** Grief can blur the line between reality and imagination, but love that refuses to let go can become both a burden and a beaconteaching us to honor the past while embracing the future, no matter how strange it may seem.
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