My Husband Froze To Death

Summary

As I lay dying in the snow, my husband was huddled by a roaring fire, sharing a grilled steak with his first love.

He had stripped my down coat off my freezing body and wrapped it around her. "You’re going to die anyway," he’d said, his voice as cold as the frost on my lashes. "Don’t let it go to waste."

After I died, my soul lingered, tethered to the world by sheer spite. I heard him whisper to her, "We only have this pocket dimension because that stupid woman gave me her family’s heirloom medallion. Everything in this space is ours now."

Then, I blinked.