My Husband Knows How I Die

"Don't look at the window." Those were the first words my husband said to me after our wedding. I froze. For a second, I thought I had heard him wrong. The bedroom was silent, except for the soft ticking of an antique clock hanging above the fireplace. Tick. Tick. Tick. I slowly turned around. Adrian Vale stood near the door, still wearing the black suit he had worn when he married me three hours ago. My husband. The word still felt strange. I had spent months convincing myself that marrying him was necessary. That I had no choice. That whatever waited for me after this wedding couldn't possibly be worse than the life I was escaping. Now, looking at his face, I wasn't so sure. "Excuse me?" I asked. His eyes didn't leave mine. "Stay away from the window, Elena." A nervous laugh escaped me. "Is this your idea of a wedding-night joke?" "I'm serious." Something in his voice made my smile disappear. Adrian wasn't smiling. He looked... Terrified. I followed his gaze toward the enormous window behind me. The curtains were open, revealing the city far below. We were twenty floors above the ground. There was nothing outside. Nothing except darkness and distant lights. "Why?" I asked. His jaw tightened. "Just don't go near it." I stared at him. "You dragged me into a marriage I didn't want, made me stand in front of hundreds of people and promise to spend the rest of my life with a man I barely know, and now the first thing you tell me when we're finally alone is not to go near a window?" His expression didn't change. But his hands did. They clenched at his sides. "Elena." "What?" "Please." That word stopped me. Adrian Vale didn't say please. In the three months I had known him, I had seen him fire a man with one sentence. I had watched powerful people lower their voices around him. He was the kind of man who didn't ask twice for anything. But now... He was begging me. I felt a chill crawl down my spine. "What's wrong?" I whispered. His eyes moved to the clock. Tick. Tick. Tick. "Do you know what date it is today?" I frowned. "Of course I do. It's our wedding day." His face became even paler. "October seventeenth." "Yes." "Exactly one month." I stared at him. "One month until what?" He looked at me for so long that my heart began pounding. Then he whispered— "November seventeenth." I waited for him to continue. He didn't. "What about it?" His lips parted. But no words came out. "Adrian." He finally looked directly into my eyes. And I suddenly wished he hadn't. There was something there. Grief. Not ordinary sadness. The kind of grief someone carried after losing something they could never get back. "You have to promise me something," he said. I crossed my arms. "That depends." "Promise me." "Tell me what it is first." His gaze dropped to my hands. "On November seventeenth, you won't leave this house." I laughed. It sounded wrong in the silent room. "What?" "You won't answer unknown calls." My laughter disappeared. "You won't get into any car unless I'm with you." "Adrian—" "And if someone wearing white comes to you—" He suddenly stopped. My stomach tightened. "If someone wearing white comes to me, what?" His eyes darkened. "Run." For several seconds, I couldn't speak. Then I stepped backward. "Are you insane?" He flinched. "I wish." "What's happening on November seventeenth?" He didn't answer. I felt anger rise inside me. "No. You don't get to do that." "Elena—" "You don't get to marry me, give me a list of insane rules, and then stand there acting like I'm supposed to obey you without an explanation." "I married you because—" He stopped. My heart skipped. "Because what?" Silence. I took another step toward him. "Why did you marry me, Adrian?" For the first time that night, his cold mask cracked. His eyes closed. Only for a moment. But when he opened them again, something had changed. "Because I couldn't let you die." The room went silent. I stared at him. "What did you just say?" He looked toward the window. I followed his gaze. My reflection stared back at me from the glass. White wedding dress. Loose dark hair. A terrified expression. Then Adrian spoke again. "You die on November seventeenth." My blood turned cold. I laughed. Again. But this time, there was no humor in it. "You think that's funny?" "I'm not joking." "How do you know that?" His silence answered me. My heart began beating harder. "How do you know?" "Elena—" "How do you know?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Because I've already watched it happen." I couldn't breathe. "What?" "You died in my arms." The clock ticked. Tick. Tick. Tick. I stared at my husband. My husband. The man I had been forced to marry. Suddenly, I couldn't remember why I had ever believed Adrian Vale was simply cold. Cold people didn't look like they were haunted. Cold people didn't look at their wives as if they had already lost them. "That's impossible," I whispered. "I know." "You can't watch someone die before they die." "I know." "So you're lying." His eyes met mine. "I wish I was." My throat went dry. "Then tell me how I die." His face changed. The silence stretched between us. I shouldn't have asked. I knew it the moment his expression broke. "Tell me," I demanded. He took a step toward me. I stepped back. "Elena." "How?" "Don't ask me." "HOW?" The lights went out. I screamed. Complete darkness swallowed the room. My heart slammed against my ribs. "Adrian!" "I'm here." His voice came from somewhere in front of me. I reached into the darkness. My fingers touched his shirt. Before I could pull away, his hand closed around mine. "Don't move," he whispered. "What's happening?" "I don't know." That frightened me more than anything. Adrian always knew. At least, that was what everyone said. The lights flickered once. Twice. Then returned. And Adrian suddenly pulled me behind him. "What?" I whispered. He didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the window. I slowly looked past his shoulder. At first, I saw nothing. Then I saw it. A handprint. On the outside of the glass. My breath stopped. We were twenty floors above the ground. There was no balcony. No ledge. No possible way— Another handprint appeared. I screamed. Adrian grabbed me and dragged me away from the window. "Don't look!" "What is that?" "Don't look at it!" My phone began ringing. The sound was so sudden that I jumped. Adrian froze. My phone was lying on the table beside the bed. The screen glowed. UNKNOWN CALLER I looked at Adrian. He was staring at the phone. "Don't answer it," he said. The blood drained from my face. "What?" "Don't answer." "Why?" His voice became dangerously quiet. "Because it happened before." I stared at him. "What happened before?" The phone kept ringing. Once. Twice. Three times. Then it stopped. Neither of us moved. A message appeared. My fingers shook as I picked up the phone. Congratulations on your wedding, Elena. I swallowed. Another message arrived. You looked beautiful today. My heart began pounding. Adrian saw my face. "What did it say?" Before I could answer, another message appeared. This one included a photograph. I opened it. And dropped my phone. Adrian caught it before it hit the floor. "Elena?" I couldn't speak. He picked up the phone. Then all the color disappeared from his face. I looked at the screen. It was a photograph of me. Taken tonight. I was standing at the altar beside Adrian. But that wasn't the terrifying part. The photograph had been taken from behind us. From inside the church. Someone had been watching. A red circle had been drawn around my head. Below it were six words. ONE MONTH LEFT. ENJOY YOUR MARRIAGE. I felt Adrian's hand close around mine. For the first time since I had known him, his hand was shaking. "Who sent that?" I whispered. His eyes moved toward the bedroom door. Someone knocked. Once. Adrian immediately stepped in front of me. "Who is it?" I called. No answer. Another knock. Three slow taps. Adrian's jaw tightened. "Don't open it," he whispered. "Who is out there?" The door handle slowly turned. My heart stopped. "Adrian..." The handle stopped moving. Silence. Then a woman's voice came from the other side. Soft. Sweet. Familiar. "Elena?" I went completely still. Adrian looked at me. His expression changed. "Who is that?" I couldn't answer. The voice spoke again. "Elena, sweetheart... open the door." My lips trembled. Because I knew that voice. It belonged to someone who had been dead for three years. My mother.