Chapter 1

The portrait curled up in the brazier. My face in the photo blackened first, until nothing was left but a thin layer of ash.

My husband, Brandon Robinson, poked apart the ashes.

His first love, Aylin Blessen, sobbed against his shoulder, trembling with every breath.

"This is all my fault! Leanna must think I can't stand her being alive."

He placed his hand on her back and stroked it slowly.

"She knows what you're afraid of, and she still chose this moment to run away. You're not the one who should be feeling guilty."

I stood on the other side of the brazier and watched them.

Last month, I burned myself in the kitchen while boiling water. Brandon had comforted me the same way.

He held my wrist and rinsed the burn. Then, he replaced the faulty kettle the next day.

My body had gone stiff from the cold across the hallway, yet he only cared about wiping Aylin's tears.

A staff member, Patrick Mort, walked in carrying my clothes and said hesitantly, "Mrs. Robinson's bag, coat, and shoes are all in the changing room. The back door camera didn't catch her leaving either.

"The fire escape in the old building has been locked the whole time, so she might still be in here."

Aylin looked up. Her eyes were red from crying.

"Before the rehearsal, Leanna said she was going to make sure this never happened. She's smart enough to dodge all the cameras."

Patrick set a ring of keys on the table and suggested that they search the building again.

Brandon glanced at my bag, his gaze lingering on the zipper for a moment.

He had given me that bag last year. My ID and a few loose bills were still in the inner compartment. I never went out without it.

Just as he touched the zipper, Aylin began to gasp for air.

She clutched at her collar and staggered back into the table behind her. The items on the table rattled.

"Stop looking for her. She just wants to see everyone thrown into chaos over her. The second she comes back, I'll just be the burden who made everyone worry all over again."

Brandon swiftly steadied her and returned the keys to Patrick.

"Stop searching for her, and don't call the cops either. Leanna is an adult. Nobody else should have to pay for her little stunts."

Patrick tried to say more, but Brandon had already added a line to the sign-in sheet.

[During the seven-day event, the process may not be interrupted except in an emergency.]

Then, he signed his name, taking on all responsibility.

I chased Patrick and tried to knock the keys to the floor, but my hand passed right through them.

At the end of the corridor, the gray door was shut tight. A green indicator light glowed beside it.

Behind that door was the old building’s cold storage area, which had been closed to the public for years.

The simulation pod for the rehearsal funeral sat right next to it.

Aylin had swapped the two door signs.

When I was shoved inside, I finally noticed the frost coating the walls of the compartment. The vent gave off a dull hum. The emergency release handle inside the door was bound with zip ties.

I clawed at the ties until my nails split, but I still could not tear them off.

When I passed through the gray door, I saw my own body curled on the floor.

The price tag on the burial clothes still hung from the sleeve. It was half-soaked through with blood from my palm.

As Brandon passed by the area, Aylin took his arm and asked him to stay with her through the first night.

He was just on the other side of the wall, but his footsteps kept fading farther away.