After I Died Novels & Stories

“It's… Monday. April 27.” I froze. No. No freaking way. April 27 was the day I died. When Elias killed me. And now I'm back again.

His hand fell back down, and he took one last gasp, then he went still. Sorry? “Sorry for what?” My voice was barely above a whisper as I stared at his calm, emotionless face. He was dead. I wouldn't be receiving any answer. Zane was my only hope out of the life I was in. Now, what was I supposed to do?

Lena stared at the words. Her heart pounded wildly. “…Aftergame?” someone whispered. “What kind of sick joke is this?” another voice snapped. The screen flickered. More words appeared. STATUS: DECEASED A gasp spread across the crowd. Lena’s chest tightened painfully. “No…” she whispered. “No… that’s not—” ALL PARTICIPANTS HAVE DIED Her legs weakened slightly. Her breathing grew shallow. “I… died…” she whispered. Her voice barely sounded like hers. NEW OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE

Just as I was sobbing uncontrollably, those magical little texts appeared again. [Oh, it's really heartbreaking to see. Hurry up and finish the story; your mother is waiting for you in the new world.] [She used up all her points to get this opportunity. Once your life ends here, you can immediately go to her side.] I forcefully wiped away my tears, sobbing softly, "Really? If I die... I can see my mother?" [Absolutely! Your mother knew you were suffering and couldn't come back, and she was frantic. She used up all her points to exchange for a reward from the system. Once your life ends here, you can immediately be teleported to her side to enjoy happiness!]

Three years since Theo’s contact signed my death certificate‚ wrapped me in a body bag while I was still breathing‚ and carried me out through a back exit like I was already gone. Three years since I woke up in a strange room in Theo’s territory‚ too weak to move‚ too empty to cry‚ with a newborn boy lying on my chest. Alive. Somehow… alive. I named him Ash. Because ashes were all I was supposed to be. For three years‚ I stayed hidden. I let the world believe I was dead. I healed slowly at first‚ then faster. I painted. I raised Ash. I watched him learn how to walk‚ how to talk‚ how to laugh like the world had never hurt him.

Her expression was unhurried. I returned to the desk and flipped to the next page of the notebook. There, in clean lines, I began to outline what would come next. Reintroducing myself into the world carefully. Using George’s connections to place me where I needed to be. Watching Adrian and Marissa’s every move before they ever noticed mine. I would chip away at them, quietly, until their perfect life began to crack under its own weight. Each step I wrote filled me with a strange calm, as I slowly came to the realization that ‘Rachel’ actually is dead. The Rachel who loved endlessly was killed off by the flames.

he said quietly, then retreated into shadow. When the grave was filled, Ophelia pressed a palm to the mound. “Your brief light will guide me,” she whispered. Snowflakes melted on her hand. Thorn spoke, rough with emotion. “War steals too much. I swear no blow will touch you again while I draw breath.” Ophelia met his gaze—friend, guard, unlikely brother in grief. “We endure,” she whispered. “Not for victory. For memory.” --- #### Ashes of Tomorrow Back in Cell Nine—straw replaced by blankets—Ophelia lay awake, pain ebbing to a hollow throb. Through the slit window stars burned, merciless and clear.

Naomi’s POV After leaving the cemetery, Adrian returned to the villa with my urn in his arms. The house was quiet. The servants lowered their heads when they saw him. He walked past all of them, his eyes fixed on the small white urn pressed against his chest. That was all I had become. A name on a stone. A handful of ashes. A person they only loved after she was dead. Adrian went straight to our bedroom. The room still looked the same as before, but it felt colder now. My clothes were still in the closet. My cup was still on the table. The pillow on my side of the bed had not been moved.

Dante held me as if I might vanish, but I no longer had the strength to push him away. Professor Shaw came to my side. “Aria, can you hear me?” I looked at her through the blur. “My baby…” Her expression changed, but her voice stayed steady. “We’re taking you to the institute medical center now.” As they lifted me onto the stretcher, Dante tried to follow. Professor Shaw stopped him with one look. “You had your chance to protect her.” The last thing I saw before darkness took me was Dante standing in the hall, covered in my blood, while the wedding ring box lay open at his feet.

The day I found out I had leukemia, my first reaction wasn't to cry. It was relief. I wasn't their biological son anyway. If I died, at least I wouldn't owe anyone anything. When I was six, my younger brother and I fought over a limited-edition robot model. Mom dragged me into a corner and told me, spacing out every word, "You aren't our real son. Everything you have in this house is a favor we've done for you." After that, I never asked them for another thing. My brother got new sneakers. I wore his hand-me-downs. He took piano lessons while I washed dishes in the kitchen to earn money for breakfast the next morning. I lived like a suitcase someone had left with the family, packed and