I Died, But He Couldn't Let Me Go / Chapter 2: The Ghost Who Watched Him Win
I Died, But He Couldn't Let Me Go

I Died, But He Couldn't Let Me Go

Author: William Rodriguez

Chapter 2: The Ghost Who Watched Him Win

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My unease grew. He was heading... wasn’t this the old servants’ quarters?

It wasn’t until he stood at the entrance that I realized.

Was he out of his mind, coming here on his wedding night, of all times?

I stood with him for a while, feeling even more puzzled.

He came but didn’t go in—what was he doing?

At least go in, see that I’m dead, and notify my family to collect my body.

"Hey, go in." I tried to remind him.

But he didn’t react.

Of course, he couldn’t see me.

He still didn’t know I was dead!

My heart tightened. I floated in front of him, carefully observing his expression. The lines on his face seemed deeper, his eyes glassy with exhaustion.

Nathaniel’s dark eyes were empty, as if he was lost or possessed, his thoughts unreadable.

His features had hardened, no longer boyish.

He had grown into a formidable man of the house. The weight of responsibility pressed down on his shoulders, visible in every tense muscle.

Back then, under my shameless teasing, he and I developed feelings for each other.

We had a simple wedding. Even the engagement gift was just a horse, gathered in haste. The photo from that day still sits in my father’s study, gathering dust.

But at that time, I was so full of him I never noticed his reluctance at all.

Until the letter from the city arrived.

The gist was: Colonel Marlowe has served his country with distinction. The mayor grants him an honorable discharge, and from now on, command passes to Nathaniel Holloway.

Only then did my father and I realize that Nathaniel was never just a strategist.

He wasn’t just a strategist. He came to seize my father’s command—for his own family.

By marrying him, I unknowingly helped him transfer the unit’s power smoothly, making it effortless for him to remove my father.

Fortunately, my father had long wanted to retire.

For my happiness, he cooperated fully and handed over the command.

…

Thinking of this, I glanced at Nathaniel. He was still standing there, motionless, lost in thought. His breath hung in the cold air, a ghostly mist.

I found it boring, so I curled up in a corner, hugging myself silently.

I froze. Did I really like doing this? Guess I did.

Just like that, I watched Nathaniel stand outside the servants’ quarters all night, until dawn. The first rays of sun glinted off the frost on the windowpanes.

He finally left quietly.

I looked back at the room behind me, unwilling to leave.

Figures. Once again, nobody’s coming to collect my body today.

On the second day after my death, the breakfast table was tense.

My father may have lost his command, but after all those years, he still had loyal friends.

They knew I was locked away and couldn’t accept it.

"Nathaniel, Marlowe grew up under our watch. She’s not the kind of girl who causes trouble."

"Marlowe is straightforward and open, naturally different from those gossipy types."

"Nathaniel…"

…

Uncles and old family friends all spoke up for me. The kitchen staff kept glancing at my empty chair, their hands trembling as they poured coffee.

My eyes grew hot. See, even they knew I hated petty gossip.

But the man who shared my bed never understood me.

That year, after Nathaniel got the command, he started deploying constantly. Just like my father.

I, as always, accompanied him in the field.

Cooking for him, taking care of his daily needs, I stayed with him for four years. I’d patch his uniforms, brew his coffee strong and black—just the way he liked it—and keep his boots shined.

Later, the old master of the house died, the heirs fought for the estate, and he left me at the border and hurried back to the city with his men.

But I couldn’t just sit still.

As soon as he left, I followed. Couldn’t help myself.

Just like that, I secretly followed him all the way to the city. I hitched a ride in a hay truck. Huddled under a tarp. The city lights were just a blur.

And during the estate battle, I blocked a bullet from the shadows for him.

That shot hit my abdomen, and our first child was gone just like that.

And from then on, I lost the ability to have children.

With the help of my family’s old unit, Nathaniel successfully took over the estate.

Soon after, letters poured in, all urging him to take a new wife.

The reason: "Marlowe can’t have children and can’t be the lady of the house."

Funny, isn’t it? Without me, where would the new master come from?

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