Behind the Storage Door: My Husband's Disappearance

“Claire? What’s wrong?”

A man’s low, velvety voice drifted into my ear, rough with sleep.

My eyes flew open.

Right in front of me was Ethan’s face, impossibly close—handsome, sharp, and unfairly perfect, with lashes long enough to make any woman jealous.

He was lying on his side, propped up on one arm, looking at me so tenderly it almost hurt.

My whole body went rigid. Cold sweat instantly soaked through my pajamas.

Was this... a dream?

Or hell?

When I didn’t answer, Ethan leaned in and kissed my forehead, then gave me a wicked little grin.

“What, did I break your brain? Don’t tell me I still didn’t wear you out.”

He rolled out of bed, bare feet sinking into the carpet.

“Be good. I’m going to grab something fun from the storage room. Before tonight’s over, you’ll be begging me to stop.”

Boom!

The moment I heard the words storage room, something inside my head snapped.

Memories from my last life came crashing back in a tidal wave.

This was the moment.

This night.

He said he was going to get something.

And he never came out.

I had searched for him like I’d lost my mind, only to be treated like I was insane by everyone around me.

In the end, they drove me to my death.

I had been reborn.

I had come back to the exact minute when the nightmare began.

“Don’t go!”

The scream tore out of me before I even knew I was speaking. I lunged forward and grabbed his wrist with both hands.

My nails dug so hard into his skin they left crescent marks.

Ethan flinched, his brows knitting for a second, but the expression quickly melted into something more teasing.

“So eager? You can’t even wait one minute?”

I was shaking so hard my teeth were chattering.

“Don’t go in there! That room... that room eats men alive!”

I could barely get the words out. Tears spilled down my face uncontrollably.

Ethan froze.

The smile on his face faded. He pulled me into his arms and gently patted my back.

“Bad dream?” he murmured. “Hey, come on. We just bought this place. There’s no such thing as a man-eating storage room.”

His embrace was warm. His heartbeat was strong and steady.

If I hadn’t already died once, I really might have drowned in it.

“I don’t believe it... I don’t believe it...”

I was crying so hard I could barely breathe, as if all the fear and grief from my last life had burst out at once.

Ethan let out a helpless sigh and took my hand.

“Okay,” he said softly. “Then let me prove it to you. There’s nothing in there but boxes.”

Still holding my hand, he led me toward that room from my nightmares.

With every step, my heart sank lower.

At the door, he let go of me and opened it right in front of my face.

The motion-sensor light clicked on.

The storage room was tiny—not even fifty square feet—and crammed with empty cardboard boxes left over from the move.

Ethan walked inside, turned once in a slow circle, then nudged a box in the corner with his foot.

“See? Your husband’s still here. I didn’t get eaten.”

Standing there among the boxes, arms spread wide, he looked bright and harmless with a smile on his face.

I stayed in the doorway and looked around carefully.

It was just an ordinary storage room.

Could it be... that my previous life really had been nothing but a nightmare?

Had the years of burnout at a top tech company finally broken me?

Was I the one who had lost my mind?

Looking at Ethan—solid, real, right in front of me—the tension wound through my body suddenly gave way.

He walked back over, scooped me up into his arms, and tossed me onto the bed.

“Scared that badly?” he said, eyes darkening with amusement. “Guess I’ll have to help you work it off.”