My Dead Boyfriend Novels & Stories

"Dumped? I didn't even date anyone." "Then why are you drinking like it's the end of the world?" Zach opened his mouth, but a wave of frustration caught in his chest. The whole thing had hit him hard. Eventually, he told Liam everything that happened at the birthday party. Liam swirled his glass lightly, not even bothering to look up. "Okay. And?" Zach froze for a second. "Liam, don't you think it's insane? The real girlfriend turns out to be the mistress, and the mistress is actually the wife! I feel like a damn clown!"

I was so startled that I dropped my phone directly onto my plastered, broken leg. The noise next door stopped. All that remained was dead silence and my own heartbeat, hammering like it might burst out of my chest. No way. It was absolutely impossible. Zach, that mute bastard, had been dead for a month. I made sure his body was completely gone. By now, it would have turned to mud. If he could talk, he would have been in heaven, screaming at me, not standing next door playing ghost.

As though to prove that, Edeline held her arms open and said happily, "My darling is awake!" Her voice was jarring to hear. They'd buried this woman. Kat had seen her die. She remembered the beep of the flat line like it was yesterday. She remembered how emaciated and gaunt she'd been in the days leading to her death. She remembered Gregor's devastation, the funeral, the whispers of condolences that did nothing but to make them much worse. Did this mean none of those were real? Kat was drowning in so many questions that she couldn't hold in her emotions anymore. She began to cry, her chest heaving up and down. It was difficult since her whole torso was rock hard, but she managed to bawl anyw

The boy I’m in love with is dead, but it’s not the ghastly crash that killed him. There’s a hole in his chest. His heart is missing.

"Let him die. He's just another worthless man. My boyfriend is Grayson, not that trash." … In the end, I bought Sonny a plot of land and set up a headstone. Not for anything else—just to do what was right. I hope, in the next life, we never meet again.

He asks sound in like the old grocer back in town. In response, Zoey bursts into tears. Josh tries sniffling, rubbing his face with his palms. "It's okay" the man tried comforting her. "What's the matter? Why are you crying?" She sniffled "It's my boyfriend!" She wailed. "He- he's dead!" Torrents of tears flooded her face as she cried and Josh blew his nose loudly into a paper napkin. "Where is he?"

I stare blankly at him. Whoever he is. He glances back at the road, paying attention to where he was driving for a second. But I couldn't help looking at him, letting the words process in my brain. "Jasper is dead," I say clearly, more to myself then him. I wanted to hear the words so I could understand them, believe them. He shakes his head slowly. "I was dead, but not anymore." Out of everything that has happened today-with my boyfriend trying to kill me and my father disappearing-this just passes through me with ease. Perhaps I am just numb to everything right now with all the stress...

Sometimes, the wound would bleed, and I would feel relaxed. I knew that this wasn't right, but I couldn't control myself. If only I could die. Death would set me free. My twisted thoughts filled my head, tussling for attention. I felt like a fish out of water, left on the beach to suffocate and die. Eventually, I found another way to deal with the pain: Xavier Chapman. He was Yvonne's boyfriend. Yvonne was right. I was a cruel person. I hated her, and I hated our parents.

Tiffany put on a show of pulling me up, feigning sympathy. "Celeste, the dead can't come back to life. We need to move forward." Phineas handed me a document and said, "This is Dylan's will. You're his sole beneficiary." I wiped away a tear and straightened up. So, not only had they staged a fake death, but they had even prepared a will? How suspicious. I quickly skimmed through the document. "All debts incurred during my lifetime will be assumed by Ms. Celeste Harper."

In the hospital, my childhood friend, Lillian Reyes, laid pale on the delivery bed. She gripped my hand tightly. “Shea, I’m not going to make it. I’m leaving my baby to you. I trust you.” Her grip was so strong it hurt my hand. The pain snapped me back to reality. I took in the familiar surroundings and instantly understood what had happened. I had returned to the past. When I remained silent, the midwife beside me shot me a look. “Your friend is dying here, and you can’t even say a word!