Chapter 2

"Bed 2, no heartbeat," Susan called out.

"Keep compressions going," Henry said. "Get the defibrillator ready."

One, two, three. My body jolted with every push, but the pain was gone.

I watched my own ghost rise beside the emergency bed. I was soaked head to toe, my face streaked with blood, the left side of my clothes torn wide open, and dark bruising blotching my torso.

I stared down at my hands. They were completely transparent. I'd died, only a few feet away from my husband. He hadn't even gotten one last look at my face.

"Time of death, 1:17 a.m.," Susan said softly, stopping the compressions.

A white sheet slowly covered my feet. I watched as it shrouded my body, covering my feet first, then my chest, and finally my face.

No one called my name. The only note on my patient chart read: [Unidentified female, approximately thirty years old.]

Claire was still alive. Her blood pressure had stabilized.

Henry sat beside her bed, his hand gently resting over hers the entire time.

"Henry," Claire whispered, her eyes fluttering open as tears spilled down her cheeks. "I was so scared I'd never see you again."

"Don't think like that," Henry said, gently wiping her tears away. "I'm right here with you."

"What about the other patient?" she asked, her fingers instinctively curling back.

Henry didn't notice. "She didn't make it."

Claire's face was already pale, but those words drained every last drop of color from her lips. She closed her eyes, fresh tears slipping down her temples. "This is all my fault."

Henry frowned. "This wasn't your fault at all."

"But she—"

"Claire," Henry interrupted gently. "You just survived. Don't stress about this right now."

Claire fell silent, leaning into Henry, her shoulders trembling. Fear and guilt were written all over her face.

At the time, I actually pitied her, thinking she was traumatized by the accident.

I couldn't remember exactly how I'd ended up right next to her car, either. All I could recall was a blinding flash of headlights and the deafening crash of metal.

The only thing I did know was that Claire had asked to meet me that night. She'd said she had something important to tell me about Henry in person.

I thought we started arguing after that.

Everything after that was a messy blur, like shattered glass scattered across my memory.

Every time I tried to remember, my head throbbed, even though I was dead.

Suddenly, a phone rang outside the ER.

Henry glanced at the caller ID, and a flicker of annoyance crossed his face. It was his mom, Linda Foster. She was the only one in the family who ever bothered to check if I'd eaten.

Henry stepped out into the hallway to answer, "Mom."

Whatever she said made Henry's expression stiffen for a moment. "Emily didn't come home?"

My heart twinged. Turned out, even in death, I was still foolishly holding out hope.

I stood right in front of him, close enough to see the exhaustion in his eyes. Would he worry about me? Would he call me right away? Would he realize I'd missed the dinner I'd promised to have with Linda?

"She's an adult. What's so strange about her not coming home?" Henry's voice was icy. "Maybe she's at Adam's place again."

I froze in place. Adam Quinn was my coworker at the pet hospital and my college friend. He'd helped me apply for my overseas training program.

Henry had never liked him. But nothing had ever happened between Adam and me. We'd never crossed a single line.

"Mom, I'm really busy right now," Henry said, his voice tight. "Claire got into a car accident. I don't have time to deal with Emily's drama."

Linda's voice got louder on the other end.

Henry's expression darkened more and more. "It's not the first time she's pulled this. Last month, I missed her birthday, and she went completely off the grid for a whole night.

"Now, she probably heard Claire's back in town and wants to make me justify myself all over again."

My birthday? I never turned off my phone that day. I was pulling a nine-hour shift in surgery, trying to save a golden retriever bleeding out inside. My phone got soaked and died.

The next day, I picked up Henry's favorite chestnut cake on my way home. Told him it didn't matter and we could celebrate whenever.

But he'd always assumed I'd ghosted him on purpose, giving him the silent treatment.

I opened my mouth, wanting so badly to tell him it wasn't like that. But my voice just slipped right through him, as if I wasn't even there.

Linda said something on the phone, but I couldn't make out the words.

Henry was silent for a couple of seconds, his eyes drifting toward the ER where Claire was. "If she wants to leave, let her. This time, I'm not going to look for her." With that, he hung up.

I stood there, frozen. All the excuses I'd been making for him crumbled away in an instant.

So he did know I was missing. He didn't care to look for me.