1 I returned to the world ten years after I died. I reappeared just in time to see Claire Ashton—the woman I loved—finally letting me go. She was marrying Sam, the assistant who had been by her side for years. My parents were in the front row, weeping with joy. My sister, Sarah, stood next to the groom, smiling, watching them exchange vows. And then I walked in. My arrival was a match thrown on gasoline. The joy evaporated. Claire, my Claire, let go of her new husband’s hand and lunged at me, her fingers digging into my wrist like claws. “Where have you been?” The ballroom erupted in whispers. The groom, Sam, humiliated, turned and ran. He bolted from the hall, right into the street. We heard the screech of tires and a sickening thud. The sudden shock was too much for my mother. She collapsed. My sister, Sarah, her eyes blazing, shoved me. Hard. “We were finally okay! We were healing! Why did you have to come back and destroy everything?” My fingertips tingled. I looked down. They didn't seem to want me back. Not really. The clock in the grand hall chimed. I felt a strange lightness in my wrist. One of the three faint scars that had appeared there when I woke up... simply faded away. They were getting their wish. I only had two days left. … The EMTs were shouting, “Who’s family? We need family for the vic!” My parents and Sarah all shoved their hands in the air, “We are! We are!” They climbed into the ambulance without a single look back. I didn't get it. Their son, their "lost" son, was standing right here, and they didn't even... they weren't happy. A shadow fell over me. Claire. Her face was an iron mask. Ten years had forged her into someone I barely recognized, someone who could lock down her emotions in a split second. Her eyes were flat, cold. “Get in the car.” She’s a billionaire now, the CEO of Ashton Enterprises, but she was still driving the old Cullinan I’d bought for her when I was 20. Habit took over. I reached for the passenger door. “Wait—” Claire’s voice was sharp. I stopped. The passenger seat was covered in tacky, cutesy stickers. A little plaque read, “Hubby’s Spot.” Tucked onto the dash was a photo of her and Sam, laughing. Claire. My Claire, who hated clutter, who was so territorial she’d once yelled at me for leaving a water bottle in her car... had let someone else leave his mark all over her space. I tried to smile. “Right.” I slid into the back. The silence in the car was suffocating. She’s probably trying to figure out how to get rid of me, I thought. I nervously picked at my cuticles. “Claire, you don't have to... I know this is a lot. I’ll be gone soon.” The brakes shrieked. The Cullinan screeched to a halt, throwing me hard against the front seat. My head snapped back. I looked up, rubbing my forehead. Claire was staring at me in the rearview mirror, her calm expression fractured by a sudden, terrifying rage. “Julian,” she hissed, “do you even have a goddamn heart?” I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Her phone buzzed, a frantic, jarring ring. She glanced at the screen and wrenched the car back into traffic, heading for the hospital. When we got there, Sarah was waiting, blocking the door to Sam's room. “He's not stable. You can’t go in.” I could hear my mom’s voice from inside, soft and cooing. “You need to rest, Sonny. Momma’s here.” Sonny. That was my nickname. Through the crack in the door, I saw my dad. He was sitting by the bed, hand-feeding Sam yellow Jell-O from a plastic cup. These were my things. My parents. My nickname. Sam saw Claire and his face lit up. Then, as if remembering, his expression crumpled. Claire went right to him, her hand brushing his. “The doctor said you’re going to be fine. A few bumps, that’s all.” Her voice was... gentle. A gentleness I hadn't heard since I got back. “Jealous?” Sarah’s voice was like acid in my ear. “You have no idea, do you, Julian? You just... disappeared. Vanished. Not a call, not a text. Mom and Dad were wrecked! They thought you were dead! And Claire...” She jabbed a finger at me. “Claire nearly died looking for you. A car crash. She was in a coma for a year, and in a hospital bed for five. Sam was the one who sat by her bed. Sam was the one who came to our house every goddamn Sunday, who dragged Mom and Dad out of their grief. He put this family back together.” Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “And now you show up? Because you heard she was marrying someone else? You couldn't stand that, could you?” Every word was a nail. I couldn't breathe. “Sarah,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I didn't... I didn't go abroad.” “This whole time. These ten years... I... I’ve been dead.” 2 “Bullshit!” Sarah's comeback was instant, but her eyes flickered. “Dead men don’t just... walk back in.” “Sam found it all! Your plane ticket to Brazil. The security footage of you at JFK! You left us!” I closed my eyes. A bitter laugh escaped me. “I booked the ticket. But I never got on the plane.” On the way to the airport... a tanker truck. It jackknifed on the BQE. I was right beside it. I was... vaporized. There was nothing left. The next thing I knew, I woke up, standing at the back of a church. Ten years later. To them, it was a decade. To me, it was a blink. I looked at my wrist. Only two scars left. Two days. I forced a smile. “Sarah... I was wrong. I’m sorry. Please. I just want to spend these last two days with you. With Mom and Dad. Please.” Before she could answer, Sam spotted me. “Mr. Vance…” He flinched, pulling his hand out of Claire’s. The movement was too sharp, and it ripped his IV out. Blood welled up on the back of his hand. And then, before I could even process it, Claire leaned down and... licked the blood from his skin. Sam’s ears turned bright red. I just... stared at my feet. My nose burned. Claire. My Claire, who had a borderline phobia of germs. Who used to make me wash my hands three times before I could even touch her. She just licked another man's blood. “Sonny, you need to rest that leg,” Mom fussed, fluffing his pillow. I felt like a ghost. A complete stranger. “Mr. Vance... Julian... please, sit,” Sam said, his voice polite. On his hand, a massive, deep-green emerald ring flashed under the fluorescent lights. I felt the air rush out of me. The Ashton family ring. I remembered the night I turned 18. Claire, shivering on my doorstep, having waited hours in the cold just to give it to me. “Julian, I’m all in. I want this to be forever.” And I remembered the fight, when I was 22. “I’m not ready for this, Claire! I need to live my life!” I’d thrown the ring back at her. She’d cried. For the first time, she’d cried in front of me. “It will never be anyone else, Julian. Only you.” She lied. But... I couldn’t blame her. I sat down, my head spinning. “Julian.” Claire’s voice was cold, sharp. “You haven't explained. Where were you?” My parents, Sarah... they all turned. Waiting. I couldn’t tell them the truth. It was too cruel. So I made something up. A story about amnesia, getting lost, finding my way back. It sounded weak. Pathetic. Dad snorted. “You should have just stayed lost. We were better off.” A direct hit. The tears I’d been holding back finally broke. They just... streamed down my face. A long silence. Then a sigh. “Oh, for... stop crying.” I looked up through the blur. My dad was holding something out to me. A little boat, carved out of an apple. Just like he used to make me. My heart hammered. I reached for it... But Sam’s hand shot out first. He grabbed it, took a huge bite, and smiled. “Thanks, Dad! It's great!” I licked my lips. A long time passed. “So sweet,” I whispered. Claire, who had been watching this whole exchange, her face unreadable, suddenly spoke. “I’m not marrying him.” Sam froze, the apple halfway to his mouth. “I’m not marrying Sam. I... I always just saw him as a brother.” Dad exploded. “What? Claire, you can’t! He’s waited for you for ten years!” “No!” he roared, slamming his fist on the tray table. “You and Sam are getting married. Two days from now. That’s final!” 3 Claire didn’t even look at him. Her eyes were locked on me. Sam was looking at me, too. His eyes were wide, pleading. I clenched my fists. I was the one who left. I was the one who broke her heart. Sam was the one who'd stayed. I forced a smile. “She’s right, Julian. He’s waited so long. Don’t... don't fail him.” Claire’s face went blank. “What right do you have to say that?” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “Who are you to me, Julian? Who the hell are you?” The air was so thick I could barely breathe. Sarah, finally, broke the tension. “Let’s just... let’s let Sam rest.” Everyone filed out. Everyone except Claire. I went back to the house I grew up in. It was the same, but my room... wasn’t my room. Mom wrung her hands. “It... it has the best light, and Sam was working from home so much... We just... I’m sorry, Julian.” “It’s fine,” I said, smiling. “The guest room is fine.” She looked at me, surprised. “You’re so... calm. You used to have such a temper.” She didn't wait for an answer, already bustling off to the kitchen to make Sam her special bone broth. The swing set Dad and Sarah built for me in the backyard... it was a gazebo now. Sam’s "reading nook." I stayed up all night, packing the few things of mine that were left in the guest room. Making space. Claire arrived early, just as I was zipping up the last duffel bag. Her face went ashen. “Where are you going?” She crossed the room in two strides, her hand clamping down on my arm. Her nails dug in. “Claire, you’re hurting me—” She pulled me into a hug, burying her face in my neck. Her whole body was shaking. “Julian... don’t. Don’t leave me again.” Her voice was a broken whisper. “It was... it was so bad, Jules. The last ten years... I wasn't... I wasn't okay.” My heart ached. I wanted to promise her, but I couldn't. I looked at my wrist. One scar left. Tomorrow. “Cl-Claire?” Sam was standing in the doorway, leaning on a cane. He'd seen us. I gently pushed Claire away. I ran over to Sam, picked up the cane he’d dropped. His lip was trembling, his eyes filling with tears. And that's when I saw it. Just below his collarbone, on his neck. A bright, angry-red hickey. My stomach dropped. They... they slept together. Last night. I forced myself to look away, to push down the bile in my throat. And in that second of distraction, it happened. A car, an SUV, came screeching around the corner, fishtailing, aiming right for Claire. Before I could even shout, Sam threw himself, cane and all, in front of her. “CLAIRE!” The tires shrieked. The SUV stopped, inches from them. Sam’s legs gave out, and he crumpled. Claire caught him, pulling him into her arms.
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