I've been able to see ghosts since I was a child. I can't speak to them, only watch. On our fifth wedding anniversary, I prepared a whole table of food and waited for my husband Ethan to come home. When I looked up, I saw his ghost. He was curled up in the corner of the living room, his face deathly pale and gray, staring at me intently. I felt like I'd fallen into an ice pit. Trembling, I reached for my phone, wanting to call him. Before I could dial, the door opened. Ethan walked in and hugged me gently like always. "Sorry, honey. I got held up at work." He held me in his arms. I heard his familiar heartbeat in my ear, warm and strong. I closed my eyes and told myself: he's alive. But when I opened them again, the spirit in the corner was still there. My heart sank bit by bit. If Ethan was already dead, then who was this person wearing his face and embracing me? I stared hard at Ethan's face. I'd been looking at that face for twenty years. From childhood until we got married, he'd been by my side every single day. Now, I was watching with my own eyes as a ghost with his exact face curled up in the corner. My whole body trembled. For a long time, I couldn't make a sound. "Emma, what's wrong?" He walked over and placed his hand on my forehead. "Why are you sweating so much? Do you have a fever?" His eyes were full of concern, his warm palm pressed against my forehead. I startled and stumbled back a step. The movement was too sudden and knocked over the glass on the table. "Crash!" Water spilled everywhere. He froze, his hand suspended in mid-air, looking at me helplessly with a trace of hurt in his eyes. "Emma? What's wrong?" I forcibly suppressed the panic in my heart. If the ghost in the corner was the real him, then who was this person in front of me? I absolutely couldn't tip my hand. I took a deep breath and forced out a smile. "Nothing," I said, trying to sound casual. "Come eat. The food's getting cold." I sat down and picked up a piece of pork rib with my fork. He ladled me a bowl of soup and took out a bottle of red wine from the cabinet. "I came home late today. Let me apologize first." I looked at the dark red liquid in the glass and spoke as casually as I could: "Do you remember that time we snuck liquor?" I stared at his face. He paused for a moment, then smiled. "How could I forget? That day you insisted on trying it. I couldn't stop you. You got blackout drunk after two glasses." "And then?" My hand holding the fork trembled slightly. "Then you threw up all over me. I took you home, and your mom smelled the alcohol and thought I'd forced you to drink. She chewed me out." He shook his head. "I didn't dare say you wanted to drink it yourself. I just took it." My heart tightened. Only the two of us knew about this. "What were you wearing that day?" I pressed on. "A white shirt. You threw up all over it. It took forever to wash clean." He smiled and ruffled my hair. "Why are you suddenly asking about this?" I lowered my eyes without answering. He even remembered this detail. I glanced at the ghost in the corner. He was still staring at me. My heart lifted again. No, this wasn't enough. I cleared my throat and looked back at him, speaking with slight embarrassment. "Today... Mom called and said she's craving the beef stew I make." He picked up a piece of pork rib for me. "Okay, I'll make it tomorrow and take it to her." "You'll make it?" I looked up at him. He laughed. "Haven't I always been the one who makes it? Back then you tried to learn how to make that dish and nearly set the kitchen on fire. I ended up learning it instead. I burned several blisters on my hands." "The first time I made it, you used salt instead of sugar. After you tasted it, your whole face scrunched up, but you still stubbornly said it was good. I thought to myself, this wife of mine is really cute." "You even lied to my mom and said you made it," he shook his head. "Then my mom bragged about your cooking to the neighbors. I didn't dare expose you." "Don't worry, I'll handle it." He patted the back of my hand. I said nothing more. All the details matched up perfectly, but the ghost was still there. Could my eyes really be playing tricks on me? Impossible. I'd been able to see ghosts since childhood. I'd never been wrong about this before. After dinner, he put on an apron and went into the kitchen. I followed and leaned against the doorframe, observing him carefully. His movements handling the ingredients, his technique applying the seasonings, even his posture when sprinkling salt---everything was exactly the same as years ago. The familiar aroma drifted from the kitchen. He turned back and smiled at me. "Go sit down. It'll be ready soon." I didn't move. When the food was served, I tasted a bite. The flavor was identical. "Is it good?" He leaned over, his eyes bright as he looked at me. I nodded. "Yeah, same taste as always." He smiled and packed the beef into containers to put in the fridge. Then he took my hand. "Alright, it's been a long day. Let's go rest." I leaned into his embrace. His body temperature came through his clothes, his steady breathing brushing against my ear. "Okay." I closed my eyes. Whether you're human or ghost, I will find out the truth.
I followed him into the bedroom. The ghost in the corner followed us in too. I looked away, not daring to look again. Ethan made the bed and patted the pillow. "Come, lie down. You're tired today. Get some rest early." I lay down beside him. He reached over to turn off the light, leaving only a small nightlight by the bed. "Emma," he turned on his side to look at me, "have you had something on your mind lately?" "No," I stared at the ceiling, "just a bit tired from work." He held my hand. "If you're tired, take a break. I'll take care of you." His palm was warm, his voice gentle. My throat tightened as I glanced again at that lonely spirit in the corner. "Do you still remember this necklace?" I picked up the necklace from the nightstand. He glanced at it and smiled. "Of course I remember. I gave it to you for your eighteenth birthday. I saved up my allowance for two months to buy it. The shopkeeper said it was the last one, and I was afraid someone else would snatch it up." My heart clenched. He was right. "Do you remember what you wrote on the note when you gave it to me?" I continued pressing. "'This necklace is for you. Happy birthday.'" His face reddened slightly. "Actually I wanted to write 'I like you,' but I didn't dare." "How did I respond?" "You didn't. The next day you stuffed a box of chocolates in my desk. I was so happy I didn't pay attention in class all day." I closed my eyes. All correct. He took out the necklace and pointed to the words "Waiting for you" engraved on it. "I even cut my hand engraving this." He extended his index finger. There was a faint scar on the pad. "Then why haven't you worn this necklace all this time?" My voice trembled. "You said you couldn't bear to, that you wanted to wait until our wedding day to wear it." I took a deep breath and put the necklace back on the nightstand, lying down as casually as I could. "You have such a good memory. You remember things from so many years ago." He smiled and ruffled my hair. "How could I forget anything about you?" I lowered my eyes, but my heart felt like it had a thorn in it. He was right. He remembered everything. But how could I explain the ghost in the corner? I turned on my side. "Since your memory is so good," I stared at him, "let me test you. Do you remember when we went swimming as kids?" He thought for a moment. "I remember. The pool was deep, and you wanted to jump in without a float." "Then you almost suffocated. I pulled you out. You were so lame." I watched Ethan's face nervously, afraid to miss even the slightest expression. I was the one who almost suffocated back then. He was the one who saved me. If he went along with my version, he would be fake! He paused for a moment, then suddenly tapped my forehead with his finger. "Are you dreaming? You were the one who almost suffocated. I pulled you out. You choked on water and cried for a long time." I opened my mouth, unable to refute. "Do you remember our first time at the beach?" He looked at me blankly. "We've never been to the beach. Don't you remember? You always said you wanted to see the ocean, but we never had time." My whole body went cold. He was right again. I really had never been to the beach, just said I wanted to go. "Also, I had a white cat when I was little, named Snowball." My voice tightened, my tone becoming somewhat urgent. He frowned. "You've never had a cat. When you were twelve, you got scratched by a cat, so you're afraid of them. You avoid them whenever you see one." I couldn't say another word. Every lie, he could precisely identify. "Sleep. Stop thinking nonsense." He pulled the blanket over and wrapped me in his arms. "You've been acting weird today." I leaned against his chest and heard his heartbeat. "I'm sorry," I said softly. "Hm?" "Nothing." I closed my eyes. He turned over, habitually draping his arm over my waist, naturally pulling me into his embrace, exactly the same as before. I opened my eyes and locked gazes with the ghost in the corner. My mind was in chaos. Who should I believe?
This went on for several days. I still had no clue, feeling like a stone was pressing on my heart. Until one morning, Ethan was tying his tie. He glanced at me in the mirror. "Didn't sleep well again last night?" "Yeah." I rubbed my eyes, looking exhausted. "Had dreams all night." He turned around, fastened the last button, and walked over to sit on the edge of the bed. "Emma, I need to tell you something." "Hm?" "I booked a couples trip to the Maldives before. I wanted to surprise you," he held my hand, "but there's an emergency at the lab and I can't get away. You go first, and I'll join you in three days." I froze. He'd never let me travel far alone before. "Why so suddenly..." "You've been so tired lately," he smiled and ruffled my hair. "Go relax. I'll fly over as soon as I finish up." My heart stirred. This was a good opportunity to test him. I nodded. "Okay." He turned to pack my luggage. I followed and leaned against the doorframe. He took out my favorite floral dress from the closet and folded it neatly. Then he stuffed sunscreen, a sun hat, common medications, and even the eye mask I usually used into the suitcase, one by one. "It's hot there, pack more light clothes. Don't get too cold, cover yourself at night," he chattered on without stopping. "Your stomach isn't good, so I bought some crackers to put in your bag. Eat them if you get hungry." I watched his busy figure, my eyes getting a bit teary. He even remembered these details. "Also, that book you said you wanted to read---I downloaded it to your tablet. You can read it on the plane if you get bored." He turned back and smiled at me. I lowered my eyes. The more meticulous he was, the more I felt like a jerk. Seeing me standing in the doorway without reacting, Ethan waved his hand in front of my face. "Alright, stop dawdling." He zipped up the suitcase. "I'll take you to the airport." He came over, took my hand, and pulled me out the door. I looked back at the spirit in the corner and noticed he didn't follow. I secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Good. It must just be my hallucination. My eyes must be the problem. All the way there, Ethan held my hand, chatting idly. I looked out the window, my mind in turmoil. At the airport, he helped me check in and stuffed the boarding pass in my hand. "Call me when you arrive." "Okay." He hugged me, his chin resting on my shoulder. "Have fun." I walked through security and looked back at him. He stood outside the glass door, waving at me. My nose tingled. He was so good to me, yet I kept doubting him. I closed my eyes and made a secret vow: this is the last time. I'll never doubt him again. On the plane, I deliberately chose a window seat. After takeoff, I looked out the window. Still no ghost following. The weight on my heart finally lifted. I'd have to make time to get a medical checkup. After forcibly suppressing the lingering unease deep in my heart, I opened the book he'd downloaded for me to distract myself. After landing, I immediately turned on my phone and sent him a message. "Arrived. Don't worry." He replied instantly. "Have fun. Wait for me." I stared at the screen and smiled.
The scenery in the Maldives was beautiful. I sent him photos every day---beaches, sunsets, palm trees. He replied instantly to every one, his tone as gentle as always. During our video call at night, he leaned back on the sofa in warm yellow light. "Where did you go today?" "Diving," I said, lying on the bed. "When are you coming? It's no fun here alone." "Soon, soon," he smiled. "Didn't you always want to see the Maldives? Back in college you said your honeymoon had to be here. I remembered." I froze. That was something I'd said casually in college. I'd almost forgotten it myself. "You still remember?" "I told you, how could I forget anything about you?" His eyes were bright. My nose tingled. He got up to pour water. The phone camera shook slightly. In that instant, I saw a blurry shadow standing in the hallway behind him. The ghost had appeared again. Staring hard at Ethan with an unfriendly expression. My whole body went cold. "Emma? What's wrong?" He came back with a water glass. "Bad signal," I forced out a smile. "I'm tired today. I'm going to hang up." After hanging up, I opened the ticket app with trembling hands. The nearest flight was in three hours. Before boarding, I dialed his number. No answer. My heart sank hard. He never ignored my calls! It was early morning when I landed. I rushed home. The lights were off. He wasn't there. The ghost wasn't there either. I could only open my phone's location tracker and found he was at the hospital. I ran out like a madwoman. The hospital corridor was long, the lights blindingly white.
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