Three Days Too Late

Vivienne's POV

I died on the day I was supposed to marry Grayson.

Because my sister Delilah had her heart "broken," my family decided to bring her to our farm in Ashwood to heal through horseback riding. The wedding was postponed.

I lay in the stable at the Clarke family farm, dialing my mother's number with blood-covered fingers.

All she said was: "What kind of game are you playing now? You think if you act pitiful we'll come running? Vivienne, enough!"

My fiancé Grayson was even more brutal: "It's just a postponement, not a cancellation. If you can't handle that, then let's just call the whole thing off—I'll marry Delilah instead."

This was the last time they would disappoint me.

And the last time I would call for help.

I lay in my own pool of blood, already without breath. They thought I was just throwing a tantrum, hiding somewhere to sulk. They thought if they ignored me long enough, I'd come crawling back to apologize.

But they didn't know.

I was already dead.

When my soul drifted out of the stable, I heard my brother Nathaniel's voice.

In the distance, the main house of the Clarke farm blazed with light.

They had arrived.

"Three days and she still hasn't come home? Won't answer her phone, won't reply to messages." Nathaniel stood on the porch of the farmhouse, phone pressed to his ear, his tone thick with impatience.

On the other end was our housekeeper.

Nathaniel scoffed. "Fine. Don't bother with her. Let her go wherever she wants."

I followed him as he drifted inside.

This farm was Clarke family property, nestled on the outskirts of Ashwood. A fire crackled in the hearth, warming the living room. They'd just arrived—coats still draped over the sofa. Father Richard was reading the paper. Mother Caroline held a teacup. Delilah nestled against Grayson, listening to him discuss tomorrow's riding plans.

"The housekeeper says Vivienne still hasn't come home after three days." Nathaniel tossed his phone onto the coffee table.

Mother frowned. "How long is she going to keep this up? It's just a two-week delay. Delilah's heartbroken—shouldn't her sister be understanding?"

Father set down his paper. "She always does this. Makes a scene, disappears, then waits for us to beg her to come back. Don't anyone contact her. Let her reflect on her behavior."

Mother's laugh was cold. "If she's going to be this unreasonable, she might as well die out there and never come back."

I floated in the corner, listening.

Once, I would have cried. Would have tried to explain. But now even tears were impossible. Souls don't cry.

Delilah lifted her head, biting her lower lip. "Dad, Mom, don't blame her... It's my fault for being heartbroken and making them postpone the wedding..." Her voice was soft, guilty—like a wounded fawn.

Mother pulled her close. "Sweet girl, how is any of this your fault? Vivienne's the one being unreasonable."

Delilah lowered her head, her thumb flying across her phone screen—

Hope you're enjoying the misery you brought on yourself. A wedding? As if you deserve one. Grayson taught me to ride today. His hands were so warm. You'll never know that feeling now. Drop dead. Better yet, never come back.

Send. Delete.

She looked up, eyes glistening, transformed once again into the sweet, understanding little sister.

My soul hovered by the window. I wanted to laugh, but no sound would come.

Today should have been my wedding day.

I should have been in white, walking down an aisle scattered with rose petals on my father's arm. Guests raising their glasses. Grayson saying "I do" before the minister.

But because Delilah had her heart "broken"—by a boyfriend who never even existed—my parents decided the whole family should vacation in Ashwood. The wedding could wait two weeks.

What was more absurd: Grayson agreed. "Vivienne, Delilah's fragile right now. It's only two weeks. Don't be difficult."

That night I stormed out of the house, walking empty streets. Cold wind cut through my thin jacket, but it couldn't match the chill of the fracture in my chest. I didn't notice the footsteps behind me—rough fabric covered my eyes, hands shoved me into a car.

We drove for what felt like hours. When they dragged me from the trunk, the air reeked of hay and manure. Horses snorting in the darkness.

A stable—the Clarke family's private farm in Ashwood.

Chains locked around my ankle like I was livestock. The man didn't recognize me. Had no idea he'd dumped his prey on her own family's property.

Three days.

A blade carved through my cheek. Cigarettes pressed into my collarbone, flesh hissing. Degradation, humiliation, a rag stuffed in my mouth so I couldn't even scream.

On the third day, he'd been drinking. Lost control. A heavy blow to the back of my skull. Blood poured from my nose and mouth simultaneously. My body convulsed. Eyes rolled back. Limbs went rigid—like dying livestock.

He panicked.

"Shit—I'm just doing a job, I'm not going back to that hellhole!"

The chains came off. Footsteps fled the stable. He didn't even close the door.

Finally, the world went quiet. Just me on the frozen ground, listening to my heartbeat grow fainter.

With blood-slicked fingers, I found my phone where it had been kicked against the wall. The screen was shattered, but still lit. Trembling, I dialed my mother.

"What kind of game are you playing now? You think if you act pitiful we'll come running? Vivienne, enough!"

The call ended.

I dialed a second number.

Grayson's voice was weary, irritated. "Vivienne, it's just a postponement. Not a cancellation. If you can't handle that, then let's call it off—I'll just marry Delilah instead."

The phone slipped from my fingers, landing in the blood.

In my final moments, I thought: Now Grayson can have what he wants—marry Delilah, never be "bothered" by me again.

Delilah had always wanted me dead. Then there'd be no one to compete for our parents' love. No one in her way.

Now her wish had come true.

And in this moment, less than sixty yards from my cold corpse, they sat gathered around a warm fireplace, complaining about my immaturity, sipping hot tea, discussing which horse Delilah should ride tomorrow.

No one knew I was already dead.