I never imagined my funeral would be so… crowded.
Seriously.
If I had known dying would bring this many people, maybe I would've done it sooner.
Okay. That sounded a little dramatic.
But considering I'm… dead, I think I'm allowed.
The first thing I noticed wasn't pain.
Not a tunnel of light.
Not angels singing.
It was silence.
A strange, heavy silence… like the world had been muffled with cotton.
And then, slowly, the sound came back.
Whispers.
Crying.
Dragging footsteps.
I opened my eyes.
Or… at least I thought I did.
Because everything felt… wrong.
I was standing.
But also… not.
That's when I saw it.
My body.
Lying inside a white coffin, surrounded by too many flowers—like someone was trying to make up for something.
My hair was perfectly styled.
My face… too peaceful.
I looked like I was at peace.
Which is funny.
Because I definitely wasn't.
— This can't be real… — I muttered.
No one answered.
A woman walked right through me, crying—passing through my shoulder like I was air.
Okay.
Breathe, Veronica.
Or… whatever. Try.
I took a step back.
Or tried to.
I had no idea how my "body" worked anymore.
— Great — I muttered. — I died and became incompetent at walking. Perfect.
Funny.
I always thought if I ever became a ghost, I'd be the elegant, mysterious type.
But no.
I was the kind that trips over her own nonexistence.
I looked around.
The church was full.
Way fuller than I expected.
— Wow… — I whispered. — So you guys actually liked me.
Too bad I only found that out after dying.
I walked—or floated, or slid, honestly I have no idea—through the crowd.
And that's when I started noticing.
Not everyone was sad.
Some looked… uncomfortable.
Others… nervous.
And a few…
Looked relieved.
My stomach—if I even still have one—twisted.
— Okay… that's not normal.
I stopped in front of my coffin.
I stared at myself for a few seconds.
— You could've picked a better dress — I muttered. — Seriously, who approved this?
Silence.
I sighed.
— Oh right. That was me.
Of course.
Because even dead, I can still disappoint myself.
That's when I heard it.
— I'm sorry…
The voice was low. Male.
I turned.
He was there.
Standing a little apart from the others, like he didn't belong.
Messy hair.
Red eyes… but not from crying.
From someone who hasn't slept in days.
He was staring at my coffin… like he was trying to understand something.
— You should've told me… — he whispered.
My chest tightened.
Or something like that.
I stepped closer to him.
— Hey… — I said automatically. — I'm right here.
Nothing.
Of course.
Because I'm dead.
Genius, Veronica.
I rolled my eyes.
— This is so unfair — I muttered.
Then he looked up.
Straight… at me.
I froze.
— …
No.
No.
No, no, no.
— You… — he murmured, frowning.
My eyes widened.
— Wait. Can you see me?!
He blinked.
Then looked away.
— I'm losing my mind…
Oh.
Great.
Back to square one.
I crossed my arms, annoyed.
— Congratulations, Veronica. You died and still managed to traumatize someone.
Before I could keep complaining about my tragic situation, something caught my attention.
Across the room.
A woman.
My best friend.
She was crying.
But… something was off.
Very off.
The crying was too perfect.
Too controlled.
Like a performance.
She was holding someone's hand.
My boyfriend.
Or… ex, I guess. Hard to maintain relationship status after death.
They were standing too close.
Way too close.
My eyes narrowed.
— No… — I whispered.
They exchanged a quick look.
A look filled with something I recognized immediately.
Guilt.
My entire body went cold.
And then…
I heard it.
Low.
Almost a whisper.
But clear.
As if it was said directly to me.
— She wasn't supposed to find out.
My world stopped.
I turned quickly.
— Who said that?!
No one answered.
But I knew.
I knew.
My gaze slowly returned to them.
My best friend.
My boyfriend.
Holding hands.
And suddenly, everything made sense.
Or worse…
Started to.
I swallowed hard.
— …what did I find out?
Silence.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
I looked back at my body inside the coffin.
And for the first time since I "woke up"…
I felt fear.
Real fear.
Because one thing became clear in that moment.
I didn't die.
It wasn't an accident.
It wasn't illness.
It wasn't fate.
Someone did this to me.
And that person…
Was here.
At my funeral.
Watching everything.
Maybe even crying.
Maybe even…
Smiling.
I took a deep breath—or tried to.
And looked at the room full of people I knew.
Or thought I knew.
— Alright… — I whispered, feeling something inside me shift.
Something colder.
Stronger.
More dangerous.
— If no one can hear me…
I took a step forward.
— Then I'll figure it out myself.
I stopped.
And a thought struck me like lightning.
— …who killed me.
And when I find out…
A small smile formed on my lips.
— They're going to regret not finishing the job.