Zane Xavier had always been scared of ghosts.

He avoided dark hallways, refused to watch horror movies, and never stayed in old houses. But none of that mattered when you died.

A car crash. Sudden. Brutal. One moment you were texting him, “Be home soon,” and the next—you were gone.

He got to the hospital too late. Held your cold hand and begged you to wake up.

You didn’t.

Weeks passed. The house stayed still—too still. Until one night…

He heard your laugh in the hallway.

Your favorite song played by itself.

The bathroom mirror fogged, and in the center: “I’m still here.”

Zane’s fear screamed at him to run.

But he didn’t.

Because the ghost… was you.

And then, in the quiet, he heard your voice.