Glory's fingers dug into the sleeve of David's jacket as they slipped down the marble hallway, away from the echo of violins, soft gossip, and her own name rolling off other people's lips like poison. She barely felt the cold floor under her heels — her pulse drowned everything out, drumming in her throat so loud she wondered if he could hear it too.
David hadn't spoken since the call. His jaw was set, too tight. Every few steps, he looked at her like she was a puzzle piece that didn't fit. Like he wasn't sure where to put her — in his arms, or out of his life.
They pushed through the service door into the parking lot. The night air hit Glory's bare shoulders like a slap. She hugged her elbows, but it did nothing to stop the trembling.
David stopped beside their car, the key fob dangling from his fingers. The soft click of metal hitting his wedding band was the only sound between them for a moment.
"Tell me," he said finally. His voice was low, but his eyes were burning. "Right now, Glory. Tell me."
She opened her mouth. Closed it. The truth sat like glass on her tongue. It would cut both of them open if she let it out.
"David, it's not—"
"Don't." He pointed the key fob at the car. The lights flashed, unlocking the doors. "Don't lie to me again."
She winced at the word again. It cut deeper than the cold.
"I'm not lying," she said, her voice too soft, too quick. "It's just—"
"Who is it?" he demanded. "Who's sending you those messages? Who knows about the garden?"
She flinched at the word. The garden. It sounded so harmless when he said it. Like a pretty place, instead of the grave for everything good between them.
"It was an accident," she whispered.
David stepped closer. "What was?"
She stared past him, to the row of parked cars shining under harsh yellow lights. "The night she found out."
David's breath caught. "Cynthia?"
Glory's eyes filled with tears before she could stop them. "She came back early. You were supposed to come with me. Lagos. Do you remember?"
His face twisted — a flicker of confusion, then something like dread.
"You told me to wait for you in the garden. You said we'd go together. But she came back first."
David's hands dropped to his sides. His keys fell to the pavement with a soft clatter neither of them moved to pick up.
"She asked me if I loved you," Glory went on. The words tasted like ashes. "She asked if I would take you if she left you. I lied to her. I told her no."
David's voice cracked. "Why?"
"Because she was my friend," Glory sobbed. "Because I hated myself for loving you. Because I thought if I lied, I could stop it. But she knew, David. She always knew."
She sank to the cold ground beside the car, her dress pooling around her like spilled emerald silk. Her shoulders shook with every breath she dragged through her teeth.
David stood there, his shadow falling over her. He didn't reach for her. He didn't speak.
"I begged her not to leave," Glory whispered, staring at her reflection in the car door. "I begged her to stay. She laughed at me. She said—she said if I wanted you so badly, I could have you. She threw her ring at me. And then she got in the car."
David's eyes darkened. He knelt in front of her, grabbing her arms too tightly. "The accident. Glory, what did you do?"
She looked at him like a child lost in the dark. "I didn't touch her. I swear I didn't. But she was crying. She wasn't looking at the road. She… she never made it out of the street."
David's fingers loosened. "So why the messages? Why now?"
Glory shook her head, hair falling loose around her shoulders. "I don't know. No one else was there. No one but me and—"
She froze.
David leaned closer, his breath frosting in the cold. "Who?"
Glory's mind reeled back to that night. The garden. The smell of roses. The sound of Cynthia's voice cutting the dark. And then—footsteps. Not hers. Not Cynthia's.
"There was someone else," Glory whispered, horror crawling up her throat. "Someone watching."
David swore under his breath. He pulled her to her feet so fast she almost stumbled. He pressed his forehead to hers, his grip tight on her shoulders.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice raw.
Glory let out a broken laugh. "I thought I could bury it. I thought if I loved you enough, it would stay dead."
David's hands dropped. He stepped back. The space between them felt like an ocean.
"Stay here," he said.
"David—"
"Stay here," he snapped.
He grabbed the keys off the ground and stalked to the driver's side. He wrenched the door open, then slammed it shut so hard the echo bounced off the empty parking lot.
Glory pressed her palms to the roof of the car. "Where are you going?"
He didn't look at her. He started the engine. "To find out who's haunting us."
"David, please—"
But he was already driving away. The taillights disappeared into the dark, leaving Glory standing in the cold with her hands pressed to her stomach, like she could hold all the pieces of herself together.
📍 Two hours later
Glory sat on the floor by the window of their bedroom, staring at her phone. She'd read the last message a hundred times.
"Tell him before I do."
Her mind spun through every person who might want to ruin her. Cynthia's family? No — they never liked her, but they hadn't spoken in years. One of David's ex-friends? Gossip bloggers? It didn't make sense.
She got up, pacing. The garden. The ring. Cynthia's accident. Someone had seen. Someone knew.
The door slammed downstairs. Glory jumped. She ran to the top of the stairs just as David came in, hair wet from rain, face pale, eyes like stone.
"Where did you go?" she asked.
He didn't answer right away. He just looked at her like he was trying to decide if she was real or a ghost herself.
"I went to the old house," he said. "The garden."
Her chest tightened. "Why?"
"I wanted to see if someone had been there. If there were cameras. A neighbor. Anything."
"And?" She gripped the banister so hard her knuckles turned white.
David climbed the stairs slowly. When he reached her, he lifted his hand. In his palm was a tiny, battered USB stick.
"This was taped under the bench. It's dated the night she died."
Glory's knees buckled. David caught her, pulling her against him, but his arms were stiff. Not warm like before.
"What's on it?" she breathed.
David's mouth was a grim line. "We're going to find out."
📍 Midnight
They sat side by side on the edge of their bed, the laptop open in front of them. Glory's heartbeat thundered in her ears.
David clicked PLAY.
The grainy video flickered to life. The garden. Moonlight on roses. The faint shape of two women standing face to face — one in a pale coat, one in a dark dress. Cynthia and Glory.
There was no sound, just blurry shapes moving like ghosts under the trees.
Glory saw herself step forward. Cynthia shoved her back. Then Cynthia turned, storming toward the car. Glory grabbed her arm — the shadows tangled for a heartbeat. Then Cynthia ripped free, flinging something — the ring.
Glory watched her past self bend to pick it up. When she stood, Cynthia was gone. The garden was empty — but behind Glory, a darker shadow moved. Just for a second. Tall. Watching.
David paused the video. He pointed. "Who the hell is that?"
Glory's breath hitched. "I don't know."
David rewound. Played it again. The figure shifted — a glint of something in his hand. A phone? A camera?
And then the video ended.
Glory's hands flew to her mouth. "It's him. He filmed it."
David turned to her, his face pale. "And now he wants to destroy us with it."
Glory looked at him — really looked. The lines around his eyes. The tremor in his fingers. She realized, for the first time, that he wasn't her rescue anymore. He was drowning, too.
"David," she whispered, reaching for him. "I'm sorry."
He didn't flinch. He let her touch his face. But his eyes didn't soften.
"Who did you betray, Glory?" he asked. "Her? Me? Or yourself?"
Before she could answer, her phone buzzed again. Another message.
"It's time to pay up. Or everyone sees the truth."
David read it over her shoulder. He looked at her like he didn't know whether to kiss her or walk out the door and never come back.
Glory's heart thudded. She knew, with a cold certainty, that the secret wasn't done bleeding them dry.