Episode1
I swear I saw him. I felt his hand. I kissed him. His breath was warm, his lips tasted of mint just like always. He even wore that oversized grey hoodie that always made him look like a gentle thug. He was real. He held me all night, whispering I love you into my ear, promising wed marry next year. I remember every second: the way his fingers traced my arm, how he wept when I wept, how he made love with such fire I thought my soul would split in two. And then he vanished.
I woke up alone, but I wasnt scared. I told myself Id gone for a jog, as I sometimes did. His cologne still lingered on the sheets. My skin still tingled where hed touched me. Something didnt fit.
I called.
Again.
And again.
Then my best friend, Emily, knocked on my door, her face ashen. She didnt understand why I was crying.
James, she whispered, dont you know?
I laughed. Know what?
Harrys dead.
I blinked. Dead how?
She sobbed harder. He died two days ago car crash on the night of the storm.
No. No. No.
I shouted, shoved her away, called her cruel for saying it, said it was a joke. I showed her the text Harry had sent the night before, the voice note that said, Im on my way. I miss your body next to mine. She stared at the phone, trembling.
James he couldnt have sent that. He was already in the morgue.
The world tipped. My knees gave way. I bolted to the bathroom, grabbed the towel hed used, still damp, the hoodie hed dropped, the bite mark on my neck.
Hed been here. He had to be.
But the truth is Harry was buried yesterday.
And somehow Id made love to him last night.
Days passed. Nights became 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 all I got was static and my own terrified breathing.
Then I missed my period. Twice.
I chalked it up to stress, grief, trauma. Until 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 Harry. But he was dead. Buried, rotting, gone. Yet something was growing inside me. Something that kicked in the night, something that glowed under my skin when the lights went out. And every time I wept and said I couldnt bear it, I heard a whisper from the shadows:
Youre not alone. Our child is coming.
—
Episode2
I dont remember falling asleep. I only recall waking up in the bathtub, the pregnancy test still clenched in my hand, those two pink lines mocking my sanity. I hadnt spoken to anyone for days not even Emily. My phone rang dozens of times, her name flashing on the screen. I ignored every call.
How could I explain that I was carrying a baby fathered by a man who had been six feet under for weeks? Who would believe me? I barely believed myself, until that night.
Just as I was drifting off, a pressure rose from my womb. It wasnt a normal kick. It felt deliberate, almost intelligent, as if trying to get my attention. I sat up, gasping, hands on my stomach. Then I heard it again Harrys voice, inside my head.
Dont be afraid, love. I chose you.
I screamed, leapt out of bed, stared at my belly in the mirror, pulling my shirt up. I could swear I saw a faint blue pulse just beneath my skin. It flickered then vanished. My legs went weak, I collapsed, sobbing.
The next day I forced myself to the hospital. I told the doctor Id become pregnant after my boyfriend visited me. I lied about the dates, about everything except the symptoms.
Strange dreams. Skin that glows. Hearing voices of someone who isnt there.
The doctors expression shifted from concern to a calm suspicion.
Well run some tests, she said cautiously. Stress can play tricks on the mind, especially with pregnancy hormones.
She pressed her stethoscope to my belly. Her face froze.
I cant hear a heartbeat. Somethings 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. Harry stood by our old spot by the lake, the wind ruffling his hoodies hood.
Our child isnt like the others, he said, voice softer than the breeze. He is me and more.
What do you mean? I asked.
He only smiled sadly. Youll understand soon. But you must protect him.
I woke to find the curtains wide open, though Id locked everything. The hoodie from the dream lay neatly folded on the edge of the bed. I touched it it was still warm.
Thats when I knew what was growing inside me was real. It was his, and it was changing me.
The next day I finally called Emily. I needed help. She arrived breathless, hugged me tightly, and listened to everything the glowing spot on my belly, the dreams, the voice, the baby.
She didnt laugh. She didnt scream. She whispered, We need to take you somewhere.
She led me to an old cottage hidden behind her grandmothers church. Inside sat an elderly woman with long grey braids and pale eyes. She looked at me once, then said,
Youre not the first. Youll be the last.
I asked what she meant. Her answer chilled me to the bone.
You carry the child of a bound soul. That baby is both a blessing and a warning. His father shouldnt have returned. The door is now open, and others are crossing.
To take him? I asked.
To take you.
Lights flickered. A cold draft swept the windows. From the shadows I heard Harrys voice again:
Run.
—
Episode3
The room turned icy. The old womans eyes widened in terror as unnatural shadows stretched across the walls like claws.
Hes here, she whispered, clutching a rosary made of bone and seaglass.
Emily shoved me behind her. But I was no longer afraid of Harry. I feared the things the old woman spoke of the ones that came because he broke the rules.
She scattered ash to form a circle, urging me to stand inside.
Dont step out, no matter what. Hear me? she warned. Youre a bridge now, between life and death. 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 I heard them dozens, perhaps hundreds, of voices. Cries, moans, pleas, laughter, all emerging from the darkness.
Tari, please, I whispered, whats happening?
He appeared, but not as before. His eyes were empty, full of 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. I didnt know I was opening a door.
I stepped closer, tears streaming.
Why me? Why the baby?
He looked at my belly, then at me.
Because our love was stronger than death. But love like that tears the laws apart.
Suddenly a twisted, halffaced monster with burning eyes emerged from the shadows, whistling a harsh note. Harry threw himself between us.
You cant have her! the creature roared. You cant take our child!
Harry lunged at the beast. The old woman began chanting in an ancient tongue. Emily clutched my hand, sobbing.
James! Dont leave the circle!
I shouted as the monster lunged. Harry shoved it aside. The old woman screamed,
NOW! Choose, child! Life or love?
Harry, bloodied and fading, turned to me.
You must let me go, love. For our child. For you.
I shook my head, refusing.
You never truly lost me. I live in him now, in you. But if you cling, theyll take everything.
The lights exploded. The floor cracked. Shadows wailed. I screamed his name, said goodbye, and the darkness recoiled.
He smiled once, then vanished. The monster shrieked, turning to smoke. Silence fell.
I collapsed. The circle dimmed. My baby kicked once, then again, and finally settled.
Nine months later I gave birth to a boy. He didnt cry like other babies. He stared straight into my eyes, quiet and calm, as if he already knew 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 mine Harrys.
I named our son HarryJames, meaning Harry belongs to God, because he was never truly mine.
Before he passed to the other side, he left me one final gift: a piece of himself that no shadow will ever strip away.
THE END.
