My Husband’s Ghost Lover Chapter 09

My Husband’s Ghost Lover Chapter 09

Side Story

Makayla’s POV

There was nothing particularly special about my feelings for Alonzo.

He was handsome, capable, and kind to everyone–who wouldn’t fall for a guy like that?

I was just one of the many girls with a crush on him, so I kept my feelings locked down tight.

I learned how to take care of my skin and apply makeup, transforming myself from a plain, small–town girl into someone who could stand beside him without looking out of place.

Alonzo was always good to me.

He would even ask me to help him fend off other girls by pretending to be his girlfriend.

He was such a gentleman. Even when he kissed me, it was nothing more than a light graze against my lips. But it was enough to keep me replaying the moment in my head for days.

I thought it would be wonderful if I could stay by his side like that forever.

He was nothing like the guys back in my hometown, who would try to get me into bed the second they had the chance.

Until that day, when he smiled and said, “Kayla, I’ve never heard you

talk about your family. I reached out to them for you. They miss you a

lot.

“Family doesn’t hold grudges forever. Go catch up with them.”

I froze, my blood turning cold in an instant.

I had changed my name, chosen a university as far away as possible, and swapped my phone number–all just to escape that family. And yet, they had found me again.

That night, my family drugged me.

When I woke up, I was lying naked next to a strange old man.

They had taken the money he’d paid them and left without looking back.

I called the police, then stumbled back to campus in a daze, only to hear people whispering behind my back.

“Did you hear? Makayla is working as an escort.

“She looks so innocent, but that’s who she really is.”

I had no idea how those rumors had started.

Alonzo never showed up, not even once.

When I went looking for him, his roommate said he had already signed with a firm and wouldn’t be returning to campus.

I breathed a sigh of relief. At least he didn’t know what had happened.

My condition kept worsening after everything that happened. I could only manage an ordinary job just to get by.

Every day felt heavy, as if my body were weighed down. Sometimes I

couldn’t catch my breath; other times I would tremble uncontrollably.

Then I slit my wrists, but I was saved.

After I had recovered a little, I went to Alonzo’s office to find him.

He looked flustered when he saw me, glancing around before pulling me aside to a quiet corner.

I showed him the scar on my wrist. Alonzo took one quick look, then immediately turned away.

After a long silence, he said, “You’ve really been through a lot.”

He was always so quiet around me.

Then he looked me up and down and asked, “What happened to you? How did you end up like this?”

Like what? Had I become ugly again?

Before I could answer, he turned around. “Let me introduce you. This is Jazlyn, my girlfriend.

“She wasn’t easy to win over.”

The girl walked toward me and gave me a graceful smile.

I could tell at a glance that this was different–this was the first time Alonzo had officially introduced someone as his girlfriend.

I don’t remember how I made it back to my apartment, but from that moment on, the memories I had forced myself to bury began to resurface.

I had to face the truth. He was the source of all my misfortune.

Slowly, that realization turned into a deep, lingering hatred. I never

went to see him again, letting that resentment burn brighter and brighter inside me.

I felt utterly pathetic.

Eventually, I started hating Jazlyn too.

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I had tried so hard, yet I was never more than an ordinary friend to him. She didn’t have to do anything at all to become his girlfriend.

I started taking my medication again, but it didn’t help.

In the end, I traded the pills for alcohol. The more I drank, the less I hated them.

That day, my boss tore into me with the most cutting words, calling me careless and incompetent. I’d had a bit to drink before I got behind the wheel.

I’d done it before. I’d never been caught by the police, and I’d never been in a serious accident.

But that night, the car felt so loud.

The sound of Jazlyn and Alonzo’s laughter kept echoing in my head.

It was unbearable.

Truly unbearable.

Those pieces of trash–what right did they have to laugh at me?

When I finally came to my senses, I saw myself lying on the asphalt, covered in blood.

My old secondhand car was a total loss.

The paramedics were shouting all around me, but eventually, they

pronounced me dead.

I became a ghost, drifting aimlessly until, somehow, I floated over to Alonzo. I found myself tethered to him, unable to leave.

He was the only living person I could touch.

He could see me. And Jazlyn–his girlfriend, later his wife–could see me too.

I told him I was the one who saved him, and he actually believed it.

“I never knew you once slit your wrists for me, or that you were willing to risk your life to save mine. I’ve failed you.”

I didn’t bother correcting his twisted logic.

In a way, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

Everything that had happened to me was because of him.

Alonzo began to spoil me endlessly. He argued with Jazlyn for my sake and turned the entire house into a dim, shadowed place just because I told him the bright light hurt me.

He bought me dresses, whispered sweet things to me, and never pushed me away when I drew close.

We held each other, kissed, and slept together–doing all the things I had only ever dared to imagine.

Our bond deepened until our very beings seemed to merge, becoming inseparable.

Yet, for some reason, I felt no joy at all.

Later, when Jazlyn said Alonzo’s devotion only lasted for a fleeting

moment, I could hardly hold back my laughter. She was absolutely right.

Was this really the man I had begged for but could never have?

The one I had loved for so long, and then hated for just as much?

Even so, I continued playing along. Every time we were together, I felt myself growing stronger.

Meanwhile, he grew weaker. It was especially satisfying later on when no one believed him or even thought he could actually see me. Watching him fall apart gave me a sick, sweet satisfaction.

Good.

Just like this.

Let him be drained dry.

He was never a good man to begin with. He was just a shameless playboy stringing women along.

On the day he died, I finally told him the truth.

His eyes widened, and for the first time in ages, his withered face flushed a deep red. “You… you bitch…”

He looked hideous when he cursed.

I stared at him, and suddenly I felt completely calm.

He couldn’t hurt me anymore.

No one could.