La Esposa Del Fantasma Novels & Stories

Dark wants to stay with me but I refuse it, as all I need right now is a night for myself to cry it all out. I prepare myself a bathtub full of hot water and I dive into it, enjoying how well it is relaxing all my body. I close my eyes and remember every memory that I have of Maleficent. How we were friends and then became enemies, and lastly, we became each other's soulmates. Deep in my thoughts, I hear someone whispering my name, and then a gentle breeze on my cheek. I do not believe in ghosts, but as my wife was a powerful witch and there were enchantments made, I realize it must be her, Maleficent.

"Merely questioning your lack of taste. Besides, I don't want you wasting our time chasing some dimwit when we should be working." "I never chase. It's beneath me." Willow rolled her eyes again. "If we're done with the pointless information," she held the magazine up in her hand, "I found something absurd." Wes folded his arms and waited for her to continue. "There's an article that states the experience of a couple who stumbled upon an island. They said weird things started happening, like they started seeing skeletons everywhere, had hallucinations, and were hearing things. They saw their deepest innermost desires. The wife had a lover in her teens who died in the war.

But as I climbed the stairs, I realized that, for the first time since meeting Daniel, I couldn’t completely silence the tiny doubt that had taken root inside me. I pushed open the door to our bedroom, the warm scent of his signature cologne welcoming me into the dark, quiet space. I reached blindly for the wall switch to turn on the bedside lamp, but as the light flickered to life, my breath caught violently in my throat. Sitting in the armchair right beside the bed wasn't Daniel, but a towering, skeletal figure draped in my husband’s silk robe, its elongated grey fingers calmly scrolling through my phone while a familiar voice echoed softly from its faceless head: *“You don’t need pictures

He looked at me like I was a child asking a foolish question. “She’s your wife so why are you asking me that?” He smirked. I laughed. And then lifted my gaze. My eyes were darker and scarier this time. “Where. Is. My. Wife.” I asked in a lower but more dangerous tone. “I’m telling you now,” he said shifting uncomfortably. “You are chasing ghosts.” My jaw tightened. “Where is Amara?” Silence. I stepped closer. “You should know better than to anger me today.” He said nothing.

Everyone knew Amber Sherry was hopelessly in love with me. She would even risk her life for me. I got into a severe car accident to save her. My health never fully recovered. Because I had a rare blood type, she was terrified that something else might happen to me. She found someone with the same blood type and kept him on standby. He would donate blood to me whenever I needed it. I was also hopelessly in love with her. After she gave birth to Aria, I did not care what people thought. We gave her Amber’s last name—Aria Sherry. I did not want her to go through another pregnancy, so I got a vasectomy. Every socialite in our circle was jealous of what we had. On the day of Aria’s baby de

Ghost and Betrayal Bella searched desperately for her husband, but he was nowhere to be found. Instead, on the street, she glimpsed a ghostly figure. Her hands trembled as she dialled David’s number after receiving the photos and videos, but there was no trace of him. Exhausted, she finally decided to go home. Bella climbed into her car and drove back. As she stepped inside her house, a terrifying figure appeared—a large woman, her face twisted with vengeance, her eyes piercing and unforgiving.

A sound that made my blood run cold. A woman's laugh. Breathy. Intimate. Then Adrian's voice: "Shh. She's probably still asleep." No. No, he wouldn't. Not here. Not in our apartment. But I already knew he would. Because I'd seen this before. In my first life, in a different place, but the same scene. The same betrayal. I stood slowly, silently. Crept to the balcony door, which I'd left cracked open. And looked inside. They were in the living room. Maribel was bent over the arm of the couch, her leggings pulled down to her thighs. Adrian was behind her, one hand gripping her hip, the other squeezing her breast, his face twisted in pleasure.

“No no, don’t be silly. Come inside… it’s getting dark now” Miranda went inside with the woman, there was a man who was busy pulling out the breads from the oven, he turned around and looked at Miranda as if he had seen a ghost, Miranda looked at the elderly couple; the way they looked at her, with so much love and care… the bakers wife went to her husband, “Calm down dear” Miranda spoke up softly, “Is something wrong?” The lady walked over to Miranda, “No child” “Then why does your husband look at me as if he has seen a ghost”

I looked over at my wife, she was running on the same spot and slashing at things. I sensed she noticed she was trapped in an illusion because she stopped using her katana. Melena ran towards her, and Ellis pushed her away. I called her name, but she did not respond, instead, she was diligently walking on the same spot as if she was on an invisible treadmill. I tried to reach my wife, but the witches kept throwing magic projectiles at me.

"She does her part and be your mother while Isabella and Simon guard you." "I see. If that's the side effects on the other night creatures who weren't a family member of Escoffier and Orlok, my mom's death was indeed caused by a drugged night creature," my wife firmly concluded as I gently caressed her trembling hands as she tried her best to control her temper at bay. "Sorry to hear that." Minerva sincerely apologized. "None taken." Roxanne waved it off as she pulled her knees closer to her chest before resting her head over my shoulder. My wife was getting tired over this matter, but not around me—making love with me, to be precise.