Seven Days to a Kiss

Seven Days to a Kiss

Gavin

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My husband, Ethan, and I had a simple rule for our five-year marriage: we could have affairs, but our mansion was off-limits. It was our only sanctuary. Then, on my birthday, he broke it. He walked in with a girl named Tara, who looked disturbingly like my deceased sister, Gabrielle. Without even looking at me, Ethan' s voice cut through the air: "Jocelyn, I want a divorce. I' m going to be with her." A strange calm settled over me. I should have felt the familiar sting of betrayal, but I felt nothing. Perhaps because two days earlier, I died. On our fifth anniversary, a truck swerved, and I died on impact. Yet, my soul, consumed by obsession for Ethan, refused to leave, binding me to this world. That' s when Papa Legba, a spirit of the crossroads, appeared. He offered me a deal: seven days to get a true kiss from Ethan, and my life would be returned. Fail, and my soul was his. I knew it was impossible; Ethan had never kissed me with genuine emotion. But I accepted. Now, watching my husband replace me, I was already on day two. "Ethan, please. Just one kiss," I begged, but he scoffed, "I only kiss women I love." Then, he kissed Tara deeply, passionately, right in front of me. The pain was so sharp, it felt like I was dying all over again. I was trapped, a phantom in my own life, with a magical red thread on my wrist visibly fading, signaling my impending eternal demise. And no one, especially not the man I loved, believed me.

Introduction

My husband, Ethan, and I had a simple rule for our five-year marriage: we could have affairs, but our mansion was off-limits. It was our only sanctuary.

Then, on my birthday, he broke it.

He walked in with a girl named Tara, who looked disturbingly like my deceased sister, Gabrielle. Without even looking at me, Ethan' s voice cut through the air: "Jocelyn, I want a divorce. I' m going to be with her."

A strange calm settled over me.

I should have felt the familiar sting of betrayal, but I felt nothing.

Perhaps because two days earlier, I died. On our fifth anniversary, a truck swerved, and I died on impact. Yet, my soul, consumed by obsession for Ethan, refused to leave, binding me to this world. That' s when Papa Legba, a spirit of the crossroads, appeared.

He offered me a deal: seven days to get a true kiss from Ethan, and my life would be returned. Fail, and my soul was his.

I knew it was impossible; Ethan had never kissed me with genuine emotion. But I accepted. Now, watching my husband replace me, I was already on day two.

"Ethan, please. Just one kiss," I begged, but he scoffed, "I only kiss women I love."

Then, he kissed Tara deeply, passionately, right in front of me. The pain was so sharp, it felt like I was dying all over again. I was trapped, a phantom in my own life, with a magical red thread on my wrist visibly fading, signaling my impending eternal demise. And no one, especially not the man I loved, believed me.

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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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