Chapter 4 - A Ghost in the Mirror
The figure in the doorway remained still, the dim light catching the familiar gold hoop earrings that glinted against her dark skin. Elena’s breath hitched in her throat, her hands clawing frantically at Marcus’s suit jacket as she tried to bury her face against his shoulder. Marcus stood frozen, his eyes wide with a paralyzingly familiar terror, staring at the woman who was supposed to be resting six feet under the damp earth of Oakridge Cemetery.
“Sarah?” Marcus whispered, the word tearing itself out of his throat like a rusted blade.
The woman in the doorway stepped fully into the light, revealing a face identical to Elena’s in almost every respect, save for a small, jagged scar running along her left jawline—a scar Sarah had received in a childhood accident long before she and Elena had drifted apart. She looked at them with an expression of calm, haunting sorrow.
“You didn't really think you could just pack away my life in cardboard boxes and forget about me, did you, sister?” the figure asked, her voice carrying the exact cadence and warmth of Sarah’s living, breathing self.
Maya peeked out from behind her father’s legs, her young face showing more curiosity than fear.
“See, Daddy? I told you Auntie Sarah was still here,” Maya said softly, tugging on Marcus’s trousers.
Elena pushed herself away from her husband, stepping past him with a sudden, desperate surge of adrenaline. She strode down the hallway, stopping just a few feet away from the woman standing in the guest room doorway. Elena reached out a trembling hand, her fingers extending slowly until they brushed against the fabric of the red skirt.
The fabric was warm. It had the distinct, familiar scent of lavender and sandalwood—the exact perfume Sarah had worn every single day of her life.
“How are you here?” Elena demanded, her voice shaking violently. “We went to the morgue. I identified the body. We buried you three months ago, Sarah!”
Sarah smiled, a sad, knowing curve of her lips that mirrored the way their mother used to smile when they were children. She reached up and gently touched the silver key hanging from the chain in Elena’s pocket.
“You buried someone, Elena,” Sarah whispered softly, stepping closer until their faces were inches apart. “But it wasn't me.”
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Marcus lunged forward, grabbing Sarah’s arm with a desperate grip, his fingers curling tightly around her wrist as if trying to anchor her to reality. But his hand passed right through her, meeting only empty, freezing air.
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