FROSTBOUND

6 — Ghost

~Odessa~

"Are you sure you can do this?" Margaret paused just as we stood in front of the door.

I could feel her reluctance as she pulled at my hands again.

"Mother, there's nothing to be afraid of. Besides, you can see how strong I am now. So, there should be nothing to worry about. Besides, I'm going to be with my husband, not some stranger who might be after my life." I spoke again, feeling my own anxiety getting the best of me.

It was as if she was contemplating this moment I'd eagerly waited for a whole week.

I took a deep breath, "You know what, Mother? You can go ahead. I want to meet him alone. I want it to be just the two of us."

I wanted to share my lost moment with my husband and cry into his arms.

I wanted to tell him how much I'd waited to see him and also hear him tell me how much he'd missed me— how scared he was when he thought he would lose me.

And I wanted to do all these alone with him, with no eyes restricting me from how passionately I wanted to kiss him on his lips.

"You mean... Only the two of you together?" Her eyes blazed.

"Yes, Mother. Just the two of us for now," I affirmed.

"Go on now. It's just for a few minutes and then, we'll come downstairs to meet you all," I insisted, inching her forward before she could protest.

She stood, finding it difficult to take a step. Seeing that I wasn't giving in to letting her come along, she finally nodded, barely walking as if she dragged her feet out of there.

Finally noticing her footsteps far away, a smile tugged at my lips.

I was so grateful to have a mother-in-law like her. If she could care for me this much, how much more my husband?

I gleamed, not knowing she would be so thoughtful as to make this special, while she also feared I wouldn't be able to cope with the pressure of it all.

But does she know that only the thought of meeting my husband again had brought complete healing to me?

I stood straight, shoulders tensed with anticipation.

My fingers settled on the doorknob, the cold metal bracing my palm. Gently, I pulled the door open and stepped in, only to meet another small heaven with a chandelier brightening above my head.

The room was a glamour of exquisite decoration.

I took my eyes around the room, finding everything else except him, then froze when my eyes finally landed on the window side.

There he stood facing me, hair beautifully drawn backwards, face sculpted and defined in a way that captivated my heart.

His gunmetal blue eyes captured my soft russet and pulled me once to look into them.

He was dressed in black pajamas, buttons on the shirt set free all the way down, giving access to the sight of his fine abs down to the V-line that disappeared into his black pants as if calling to be traced to the end.

I stood lost. Captured. Drowning.

He was the most handsome husband any woman could dream of coming home to meet. I'm sure it was him.

I was still in my daze when I noticed his eyes go down my body, his eyes piercing as though tearing through the fabric of my beautiful gown.

And then, I noticed how the gown accentuated my curve, making me believe I had a high chance of matching his beauty.

But still, I felt drawn by those very eyes. Those eyes that seemed to have sailed through my physical body and'd found my soul.

"You must be my husband, Adrian?" I asked, taking a step further.

"You...?" He pointed at me, eyes widening as though he was seeing a ghost.

"Yes, it's me, Juliana. Your wife," I said, excitement bubbling.

But he stood as if struck by an invisible power, brows knotted, and I could see the mountain of shock descend on him.

Surely, he wasn't expecting I'd be home already.

"You..." He spoke again, as if to make sure I wasn't indeed a ghost standing before him. As if to make sure I hadn't died in that accident.

"Yes, it's me, Adrian."

In a swift move I didn't get the chance to comprehend, he stood before me, taking my hands and then suddenly paused as if to examine me properly.

"Yes, go on. I want to feel you envelop me with your hug. I want to cry these tears on your shoulders already," I urged him.

He touched my cheeks, then my shoulders. His hands slid to my waist, then up again.

I nodded with so much excitement seeing how shocked he was to see me, as I eagerly waited for it to turn into happiness and excited screams.

He held my cheeks again, then traced my jaw with that astonished look, not leaving a bit.

It was then I noticed him bend, slowly, as if careful not to hurt me.

"Adrian, come on now, let me feel your arms around me." I urged again, the wait was eating me alive.

Then I felt his breath on the nap of my neck.

He was sniffing me.

I bit hard on my lips, feeling his warm breath send shivers right into my stomach.

With the warmth of him this close and not pulling me into a hug, my hands instinctively found his body, drawing him into mine, only to feel a sharp push and the wobbling of my legs, then came my butt hard on the floor.

A shrill cry escaped my lips, my whole body writhing in pain from the fall.

What just happened?

I wriggled on the floor, trying to force myself up, and managed to turn to look at him. Then, I saw a dangerous look that had marred his face.

"It's not you. You're not her." He pointed a trembling finger at me, shaking his head.

"It's me, Adrian. Your wife!" I cried out, my voice tethering in confusion.

How come he said it wasn't me? Why does he look at me like a stranger? Why was his expression crashing into such condensation at me?

"No, it's not possible. It can't be you. Even if I've been drunk for a whole year, it can't stop me from knowing my wife. So, it's not you!" He groaned, seething.

Everything felt otherworldly.

What had gone wrong with him? Did he think I'd died in that accident? I shook my head against the thoughts. Margaret hadn't said such a thing about him.

She'd told me he was aware of the accident and couldn't be with me during my recovery. She'd told me how eager and happy he was to meet again.

Not this... animosity.

There was no way he would think I was dead when he knew I'd survived the accident, and I'm alive.

What really had gotten into him?

I forced myself to stand, struggling to get him only f

Or him to jerk backwards, warning with a dead tone. "Step any closer to me and I swear I'll have your head ripped off."