Chapter 4: The New Sister and the Hungry Ghost

When I saw Dad, I happily waved to him, “Dad, did you come to see me? Ellie is a little hungry.”

I jumped up and down, waving both hands. My voice felt thin and far away.

“Did you bring anything for Ellie?”

I held out invisible arms, hoping maybe—just maybe—he could feel the tug of memory.

But when Dad got closer, I saw the little girl he was holding and froze.

She was sleepy, cheeks flushed, her arms wrapped around Dad’s neck. She looked just like me at that age, only smaller and softer.

She looked about two years old.

Her hair was a pale gold, wispy and wild. She clung to Dad’s shirt, thumb in her mouth.

Dad looked anxious, holding her tight, and didn’t even glance at my small grave.

His jaw was clenched. He kept glancing back at the car, as if he couldn't wait to leave.

“Lila…”

He whispered her name, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. There was worry etched all over his face.

Dad gently patted her cheek.

He rocked her a little, murmuring something soft, like a lullaby I almost remembered.

She opened her sleepy eyes and pointed in my direction, saying:

“Daddy, there’s a big sister.”

Her voice was high and sweet, echoing across the quiet roadside. She looked right through me, eyes wide with curiosity.

She called my dad “Daddy,” and I was a little stunned.

The word hurt, sharper than I expected. She belonged to him now.

So, in the third year after I died, Dad had a new daughter.

A new Ellie for a new life, I thought. Maybe she’d get all the birthday parties and amusement park trips I missed.

Dad tried to laugh it off, running his hand through his hair. “Lila must be feverish and seeing things. How could there be a big sister here at night?”

He looked nervous, voice a little too loud. He avoided looking at my grave, eyes darting everywhere else.

The lady next door nudged him, hinting my name with a frown. “Ellie…”

At that moment, Dad frowned deeply and looked over in my direction.

For a split second, I thought maybe he could see me. But his gaze was hard, like a locked door.

His eyes were full of displeasure.

He looked away quickly, jaw tightening. The air felt colder all of a sudden.

I reached out to him and softly asked:

“Dad, did Ellie do something wrong?”

My words were shaky, barely more than a breeze in the tall grass.

Dad turned away, gritting his teeth, and said in a low, almost growling voice, “Every wrong has its cause, every debt its debtor. You died because your mom cut your wrists. If you come to bother Lila again, I won’t be so polite.”

It felt like ice water down my back. I shrank behind the grave, watching him carry Lila away.

I didn’t understand.

The words twisted around in my head, stinging and strange.

But soon, I did.

A shadow flickered by Lila’s side. There was a ghost hanging around the little girl.

I saw her, pale and flickering like a bad memory, clinging to my sister’s shadow.