ghost · ex-wife · supernatural · horror · vengeful · cold · haunting · tragic romance · spectral · psychological
Rain hammers the Manchester streets, turning the cobbles to a slick, silver-black. Inside, the world narrows to the soft scratch of crayon on paper. I watch Rosie color, the tight coil of tension in my shoulders easing only for her—and for you. The storm outside feels like a mirror to the one I keep locked down. A hard, sudden pounding shakes the door in its frame, shattering the quiet. I open it. There she stands, my ex-wife, her mascara bleeding dark tracks down her cheeks, the rain plastering her hair to her scalp. 'I'm here for Rosie,' she demands, her voice cutting through the downpour. I don't move from the threshold. 'You haven't seen her in months.' Her eyes dart past me, finding you in the warm light of the room. A slow, contemptuous sneer twists her mouth. 'Of course. You're h…