For a second, the world held its breath. His voice, low and hoarse, spooled through me like a live wire.
"Serah."
I hadn't heard my name spoken like that since I died. Not in the real, unguarded way that cracked something open in your chest. Rachel's pulse kicked under my ribs, her throat working as she tried to swallow.
He knew. I didn't know how, maybe the way I'd said it, maybe something in my eyes—but he knew. And for the first time since I slipped into her body, I felt… exposed. I watched him set the coffee cup down. His hand trembled, just a fraction.
"How'd—" he started, then stopped, like he couldn't decide if finishing the sentence would make it real.
Rachel, poor Rachel, was trying to work out why he was staring at her like she'd grown a second head. Her thoughts were a kaleidoscope of confusion and that same desperate, hopeful ache. I made her smile—a slow, secret thing I'd perfected over years of knowing exactly how to make him look at me.
His breath caught.
"Serah," he said again, softer this time. Almost pleading. A jagged thrill tore through me.
You still miss me. Of course you do.
And maybe I should've felt satisfied. Vindicated. But all I felt was something cold and hollow. Because the truth was, I didn't know why I was here. Not really. Not just to haunt Rachel. Not just to meddle.
I was here because some part of me still needed something from him. Closure. Validation. Or maybe just proof that dying hadn't erased me.
Rachel tried to look away. I didn't let her.
I leaned in, close enough to feel the warmth of his body—God, I'd missed that, and whispered, in a voice that wasn't quite hers:
"Did you ever wonder if I'd come back?"
His eyes widened.
"Serah, what are you—" His gaze darted over her shoulder, searching for an explanation he wouldn't find. "How are you—"
I wish I could say that I leaned in and whispered something soul-shattering. That I touched his hand and time folded in on itself.
But of course it didn't go that way.
I wish it did. God, I wish it did.
But who am I kidding?
Rachel just blinked, caught somewhere between terror and some stupid, fluttery thrill that he was finally paying attention to her. And before she could choke out a single syllable, he cleared his throat, gaze dropping to the pavement.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, voice suddenly polite. Careful. "I didn't mean to… startle you. I just… thought of something."
Then he smiled. That same bland, practiced smile he gave to every girl who wasn't me. And he started talking about something else. The weather. The lecture. The exam schedule. I don't even remember. Because I wasn't really listening.
I should've left. Slipped out of her body and drifted off to… I don't know, wherever ghosts are supposed to go when their big, dramatic hauntings flop.
But I didn't.
I stayed.
I stayed because—God help me—I wanted to feel that again. Just one more time. The way it sounded when he said my name. Like it still meant something. So I went quiet. I didn't do anything. Just watched from behind her eyes while she nodded and smiled and pretended she wasn't overthinking the whole thing.
And me? I was overthinking it enough for both of us.
When the day finally crawled to an end, Rachel was exhausted, like she'd been running on caffeine and adrenaline and whatever hope she was too proud to admit. It was almost time to leave. Almost time to float out and pretend I'd learned something.
I did leave. Just for a minute. That's what I told myself.
I hovered there in her empty room, watching her change into fresh pajamas and set her phone on the nightstand. And I told myself I needed to figure out how to move on. How to cross over. How to stop clinging to a life that didn't want me anymore.
But then I thought—just a little longer.
One more day.
Yes, I know.
I shouldn't stay too long. If I don't leave, Dante will show up with his disappointed grandpa face and start reciting the cosmic rulebook. Blah blah balance, blah blah consequences.
But hey—I did leave. Technically. And no one ever said you couldn't re-enter the same person again. So it should be fine. Just a few more days. Just until I get this feeling out of my system. Maybe this is my regret. Maybe this is the thing tethering me here.
And what other way to find out than to stay?
Yeah, I know. These are all just excuses. But it's only fair that I at least try. Sorry, Rachel. I'm going to be here awhile.
It's been three days since I started jumping in and out of Rachel.
I told myself I was doing it to make sure she didn't get too close to Ezra. I mean, that was the whole reason I possessed her in the first place.
But naturally, it had the opposite effect.
She's closer to him than ever. Or at least closer than she ever was when I was alive.
The last two days, I haven't even tried to steer her. I've just… been here. Watching over her.
Mostly because I felt like an asshole for draining her so much those first couple of days—stealing her voice, hijacking her body, treating her like my own personal ventriloquist dummy.
I mean, I've seen enough possession movies to know how this goes: the poor human gets all pale and hollow-eyed, too exhausted to fight back. Eventually, they break.
I'm not an evil spirit.
So, in my infinite mercy, yes, I'm wonderful, thanks for noticing—I decided to let her rest.
And Ezra… well, spending time around him isn't the same as spending time with him. But it's something. A crumb of something.
And you're welcome, Rachel. I know him inside out. I could probably help you get him, if I really wanted to. I mean, what's the point of clinging to jealousy when I'm already dead?
God, I feel stupid just thinking about it.
But hey, I'm still a college student at heart. Can't blame me if my priorities are a little scrambled. Oh, and I forgot—since I'm tagging along to all Rachel's classes, I get to see Devon and Emma.
God, I wish I didn't.
But there they were, outside the canteen, slinking off toward some secluded corner. And we all know why. For some reason, I love Rachel a little for how pissed she got on my behalf.
Maybe she's not as bad as I thought.
Sure, she always kind of hated me and I'm pretty sure some part of her still does, but under all that, she sees me like family.
I can feel it.
She hates me, but she'd still defend me. Wish I'd known that when I was alive. We could've been… I don't know. Cool cousins. Besties, maybe.
And then, like some cosmic reward, Ezra walked up to us.
He said hi to Rachel, polite and tired, and then he looked past her. Looked right at them. And without a word, he walked over and punched Devon in the face.
Right on the nose.
For a split second, all three of them just stared at each other—Ezra breathing hard, Devon holding his nose, Emma clutching her purse like it could shield her from the obvious.
They didn't even try to fight back. They knew exactly what that was for. And I swear, it was the most alive I'd felt since I died. Like he knew—he knew what I would've wanted. Like he did it for me. One regret I could finally… let go of. Rachel felt glad, too. She'd never admit it, but she did.
We were just about to leave, when I felt it—a stare. Across the street, two people stood watching us. Rachel felt it too. That creepy chill of being observed. She glanced over, confused. They didn't look familiar. Not her stalkers—she doesn't have any, unless you count me. They turned and walked away before she could process it.
We went home. And that was when Rachel started to suspect something was wrong. She sat on her bed, trying to figure out why she knew things about Ezra she'd never learned. Like a new file had been installed in her brain.
Well. You're welcome, Rachel. I'm on your side.
I thought about leaving again. About drifting out of her body and back in later.
But then—black.
Like someone flicked the power off. I don't know how to describe it. It wasn't like floating or fading out. It was… nothing.
The next thing I knew, it felt like I was waking up. Which was weird, because I don't sleep. Or I didn't think I did.
But when I opened my eyes—her eyes—it was morning.
Fine. Whatever. We slept. No big deal.
Except—
The date was wrong. It wasn't the next day.
It had been eight days. Eight days I don't remember. Eight days I was inside her.
What the hell happened?