Chapter 3: The Test

After sharing the wedding toast, Michael spoke gently: “Long day, huh? You hanging in there?”

The clink of glasses still echoed as he sat beside Maple, reaching for the heavy beaded headpiece she wore. His voice had a new softness to it, the words rolling out slower than usual. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe he was trying, for once, to be gentle.

He started helping Maple remove her heavy bridal headpiece. “Take it off first, or your neck will get sore.”

He unpinned the gold combs with careful fingers, his touch feather-light. I could almost feel the phantom pressure on my scalp, the cool air on my neck as the last veil fell away.

His voice was tender, his eyes soft.

I’d never seen this side of Michael.

There was a hush in the room, the kind that makes you hold your breath. Even the floorboards seemed to hush their creaks. He looked at Maple as if memorizing a secret, his gaze softer than the gentle spring rain on our old front porch.

Maple was delighted, letting him do as he wished, her gaze never leaving him.

She beamed, eyes wide and hungry, soaking up every little bit of attention. Her cheeks glowed, and she reached out just a little, wanting more.

“Weren’t you always scared of me before?” Michael glanced at her, his tone easy.

There was a teasing note in his voice, just a hint of the boy he used to be—always quick with a joke, if only for me.

“That was when I was a kid. You’re my husband now—why would I be scared of you?”

Her voice trembled, just enough to sound believable. Maple tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, letting her eyes linger on his. She tried to echo the way I’d once spoken to him—soft, earnest, a touch nervous.

Michael said nothing more, his gaze lingering on Maple. He let the silence hang, studying her face like he was piecing together a puzzle. His thumb tapped against his knee, a nervous tell he never showed anyone but me.

For a moment, his eyes seemed to pass through her, landing on me.

I tensed instinctively.

A cold spike ran through me—did he see something? Did he remember the way I used to look at him?

But I quickly remembered: now I was just a wisp of a soul—he couldn’t see me at all.

I tried to reach for him, hand passing through the velvet bedding, but nothing changed. I was invisible, weightless—a ghost with a broken heart.

“The necklace you’re wearing looks familiar.”

Michael’s tone was casual, but his gaze sharpened. He traced the glass beads with his thumb, eyes catching on the new addition.

Maple reached up, touching it with a look of happiness. “You gave this to me on my sixteenth birthday. But the night before our wedding, a maid dropped it and lost a bead. This one was added in its place. You don’t mind, do you?”

She strung my stolen eye onto a silver chain, humming like it was just another charm. Her smile was bright, but I saw the flicker of nervousness in her eyes.

Michael narrowed his eyes, but didn’t push it.

He let the silence hang, studying her face like he was piecing together a puzzle. I could see the gears turning behind those dark eyes.

They chatted a bit more—mostly Maple talking, Michael listening.

She filled the room with my old stories, my favorite movies, tales of our high school days. Michael nodded along, sometimes offering a one-word reply. His face never gave much away.

He replied now and then, maybe a little buzzed, less attentive than usual.

The wine bottle sat nearly empty on the dresser. Michael’s cheeks were tinged pink, his voice trailing a little softer with every word. For once, he seemed willing to let his guard down, if only a little.

When the moon was high, Maple suddenly blew out the candle.

Darkness swallowed the room, save for the faint blue glow from the streetlights outside. The hush felt thick, pressing down on everything.

In the darkness, I heard the rustle of clothing as Maple leaned into Michael.

The sheets shifted, a whisper of perfume drifting through the air. I hovered at the edge of the bed, watching as she reached for him.

I heard her, using my voice, whisper softly: “Honey, I’m so cold. Can you warm me up?”

It sounded so much like me that for a moment, I felt the urge to answer, to climb into bed and curl up beside him. She pulled the covers close, pressing her head to his chest.

Soft skin, warm perfume, candlelight, and a cozy bed—what happened next was obvious.

The moment was intimate, a scene I’d once dreamed about but never lived. The tension thickened as she pressed closer, breath soft against his collarbone.

But Michael turned her down.

“I’ve had too much to drink tonight and I’m pretty out of it. If we sleep together, it might not be fair to you. Let’s just get some rest.”

His words were gentle but final, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder—a barrier more solid than any locked door. He rolled away, pulling the comforter up between them.

Even though he refused, his voice was gentle, like he didn’t want her to feel bad.

He tried to soften the blow with a sleepy smile, mumbling something about wanting her first night to be perfect. Maple forced a giggle, but her eyes flashed with frustration.

I didn’t know why, but my heart felt heavy.

Was it for my own death, or for Michael’s attitude? I couldn’t say.

There was a hollowness in my chest, a dull ache that pulsed with every quiet second. Was it jealousy, or mourning, or just the pain of being left behind?

As soon as Michael left, Maple’s expression changed.

She smiled innocently, stroking the round bead that held my eye. “You always said Michael was scary, a real brute, but he’s so gentle with me. Looks like he really likes me.”

Her voice was a sugary poison, every syllable dripping with glee. She cradled the necklace in her palm, whispering to herself like a child with a new toy.

“You were always so timid—how could he like you?”

Her words stung. She knew exactly where to poke, how to dig the knife deeper. I’d always been the quiet one, the careful one—never daring, never enough.

“It’s amazing to be human. From now on, Dad, Mom, my brother, and even my husband will all love me.”

She spun around the room, arms outstretched, laughing quietly. The joy on her face twisted my stomach.

I looked at her glowing smile, my heart aching with bitterness.

Yeah, she was a spirit, and no one could see through her disguise.

She’d live in my place.

And I would vanish without a trace.

But I wasn’t ready to give up.

I thought, after all, she wasn’t me.

Dad, Mom, my brother… surely one of them would notice?

I clung to the hope that someone would see the difference, that love could pierce through even the most perfect mask. I had to believe it.