Seven Days to a Kiss

“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.”