My Dead Fiancée Is Back: And She's Making Dinner

In the back seat of my car, my fiancée sat up, rubbing her sleepy eyes. "Why is it so dark? Ethan, we’re in the middle of nowhere. Where are you taking me?"

I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. I didn’t answer.

Chloe kept talking. "By the way, of all the wedding dresses I tried on this afternoon, which one did you like best?"

"Ethan?"

"Why are you ignoring me?"

Because I didn't dare to look at her.

My fiancée, Chloe, had been dead for six months.

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