Thirty Days as His Fake Lover

Three years dead. I paced his living room, a frantic ghost screaming at the walls. I watched Eden chase him hard. Total obsession. He shoved her away. Again and again.

Then tires screeched. Glass shattered. The car barreled toward him. Eden and I—one living girl, one ghost—lunged for Gideon. Together.

Before my brain caught up, my phantom fingertips brushed warm skin. Then, raw pain ripped through my chest. I snapped my eyes open. Gideon hovered above me.

Terror dilated his pupils. He stared dead into my eyes and screamed the one name that froze my blood: "Eden!" Chapter 1 I didn’t even have time to process it.

What the hell just happened? When my eyes snapped open again, I wasn't a drifting ghost anymore. I was trapped inside a hospital bed. Inside Eden’s body.

Right before the crash, Gideon had rejected her. Again. His face a mask of cold indifference. But the second that car barreled toward him, Eden hadn’t hesitated.

She lunged for him, right as I did. Throwing her life on the line. And that reckless, desperate act?

It finally shattered the ice Gideon had built around himself. "Eden, I'm sorry." Gideon pulled me against his chest, crushing me in a desperate grip.

His usually composed voice cracked. "I was just… too much of a coward to face my own heart. I'm in love with you.

Will you… will you still have me?" It’s always easier to see the truth when you’re looking from the outside in. I’d haunted Gideon for three damn years.

I watched the walls come down. I knew he was falling for Eden. Hell, I used to scream at him to stop living in denial, to just accept her so I could finally move on in peace.

But hearing those words? Actually hearing him confess? My chest caved in. Tears burned hot and fast, blurring my vision. I wanted to scream at him.

I wanted to shake him and tell him I wasn't Eden. I was Vivienne. His wife. The woman who died three years ago. But my vocal cords locked.

The words snagged in my throat, choking me, reducing my voice to a broken, pathetic wheeze. The days that followed were a waking nightmare. Breathtakingly real, yet entirely fake.

I could feel the searing heat of his hand gripping mine. I could breathe in the crisp, familiar scent of cedarwood clinging to his shirt.

Even when my voice was nothing more than a raspy whisper, his head would snap toward me instantly. "I'm right here," he'd murmur, his gaze painfully tender.

But that tenderness wasn't for me. Every time the name "Eden" fell from his lips, reality slapped me across the face. It was a constant, suffocating reminder. I was a thief.

I hijacked Eden’s body. I stole the confession she quite literally died for. I didn't know where the real Eden went. In the dead of night, panic would claw up my throat.

I’d imagine her ghost standing over me, fingers wrapped tight around my windpipe, demanding her life back. The guilt was a physical weight. Crushing my ribs. Stealing my breath.

Gideon, utterly oblivious to my internal breakdown, focused entirely on peeling an apple.

He sliced it into perfect, uniform little bunnies, lining them up on a small plate. "Eat something for me," he coaxed softly. I stared down at those familiar apple bunnies.

A phantom fist clamped around my heart. Squeezing hard. Every breath I took brought a dull ache. Memories flashed behind my eyes. Years ago. A terrible fever.

I had whined, practically begging Gideon to pull up a YouTube tutorial and cut my apples into bunnies. My perfect, untouchable husband—fumbling clumsily with a paring knife.

That day, half the bunnies were missing ears. The other half looked mangled. But those butchered, uneven slices? They tasted sweeter than anything I’d ever eaten.

I had caught sight of a tiny nick on his finger from the blade. Guilt had gnawed at me, and I never asked him to do it again. But he remembered.

Every single time I got sick after that, a plate of progressively perfect apple bunnies would magically appear on my nightstand. "Not hungry?" His voice yanked me out of the past.

Startled, I grabbed a fork and shoved a piece into my mouth. It was sweet. Sugary and crisp. But as it slid down my throat, a heavy, suffocating bitterness coated my tongue.

Chapter 2 The metal fork clattered against the porcelain plate. Gideon’s brow twitched. "Not hungry?" The tight edge in his voice betrayed his anxiety. I shook my head.

My throat felt stuffed with dry cotton.

What exactly was I supposed to say? 'Gideon, your knife skills really leveled up.' Or scream, 'You promised you’d only make these for me.' I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste copper.

Silence became my only shield. In that suffocating quiet, I watched his eyes track "Eden." The icy walls he used to build against her had crumbled. Replaced by warmth.

By a gradual, clear tenderness. I told myself to be glad. He was finally moving on.

But watching his devotion lock onto another woman—using my stolen eyes—brought a wave of profound sadness. I suddenly realized I wasn't nearly as selfless as I thought.

When sleep finally dragged me under, Elara's soft, echoing voice unraveled this twisted nightmare, murmuring that my soul lingered only because of the karma I had built.

Gideon’s life line, she murmured, tangled with two women. First me. Now, Eden. The brutal impact of the crash had thrust my spirit into Eden’s empty vessel.

Elara gave me a timeline. Thirty days. In exactly one month, Eden’s consciousness would finally wake up and peacefully reclaim her body.

The tension snapping my spine finally released. Thank god. Eden survived. "Vivienne," Elara’s voice echoed through the dark. "Use these thirty days to mend your regrets.

But do not alter the trajectory of their fate. On the thirtieth day, you will cross over. For good." My eyes snapped open. Cold tears soaked my pillowcase.

But the erratic hammering in my chest had slowed to a steady, grounding rhythm. Thirty days. A hard deadline.

Instead of suffocating under the paranoia of when this stolen life would shatter, I gripped the clarity of it. One final month to give Gideon a proper, silent goodbye.

I swore to take perfect care of Eden’s body. I planned to trade every ounce of my remaining soul just to watch over her. But the universe clearly didn’t get the memo.

Trying to slide into his SUV, I practically headbutted the passenger door frame. "Watch it!" Gideon’s hand shot out, a second too late.

His fingers brushed the rapidly forming red welt on my forehead.

He massaged the skin with agonizing gentleness. "Always so reckless," he muttered, his scolding laced with pure affection. Gideon really had memorized Eden’s quirks.

I forced the corners of my mouth up into a plastic smile. He slipped into the driver’s seat and asked for the address. Maybe the impact really did scramble my neurons.

Without missing a beat, I rattled off the street and unit. "Apartment 1801, 4200 Maplewood Drive." All the oxygen instantly vanished from the car. Apartment 1801.

That wasn't Eden’s new studio in the city. That was the penthouse. My home. The home I shared with Gideon. Gideon’s knuckles turned bonewhite against the leather steering wheel.

His head snapped toward me. Pitchblack eyes locked onto mine, seeming to see right through me. "You want to go to my place?" His flat, calm voice gave nothing away.

A sudden numbness prickled my scalp. Panic hijacked my tongue. "What? Oh—yeah. Yes!" I stumbled over the words, spewing pure nonsense. "I literally took a car for you. You owe me.

You can't just dump me at my place and bolt!" It was a pathetic, chaotic defense. But a single, blinding obsession drowned out all logic: Home.

I needed to step inside that apartment. If I only had thirty days left on this earth, I was spending them in my own damn house.

Chapter 3 Once the thought took root, it spread like a weed. I must have entirely lost my mind.

I grabbed Gideon’s arm, my grip tight and desperate. "Take me to your place," I begged. Gideon stared at me.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "Fine." He slammed on the gas, steering us down a route I knew in my bones. The second we walked in, my eyes locked onto the balcony.

A pale amethyst wind chime hung there. A gift from Eden. It was the only thing in this penthouse I hadn't picked out myself. Eden had fallen for him the second she laid eyes on him.

I remembered the day she cornered him after a pitch meeting. "Gideon, got a minute?" she had asked, bold and unblinking.

When she called it a "personal matter," annoyance had flared in his eyes. Since I died, women threw themselves at him constantly.

Eden’s naked desire rubbed him the wrong way. "If you have something to say, say it here," he had fired back, his tone absolute ice. That was the last thing I remembered.

Back then, my spirit had a habit of randomly fading out. Just—losing consciousness altogether. At first, I had thought my soul was finally crossing over.

But after waking up a few days later, time and time again, I just got used to the blackouts. That time, I woke up three days later.

Gideon was sitting right in the middle of the living room, staring blankly at the balcony. I followed his gaze and spotted the purple glass swaying in the breeze. "So pretty.

Did you buy this, Gideon?" I drifted over. My hand reached out on pure instinct. Clink. The glass was icecold against my fingertips. I almost jumped out of my own nonexistent skin.

I whipped my head around. Gideon’s eyes stared right through me. Dead fixed on the open window. Clink. Clink.

A gust of wind swept through the apartment, rattling the glass pieces together. "Just the wind…" Gideon murmured. The deep disappointment in his voice was palpable.

I exhaled a shaky breath, floating backward. No way was I touching that thing again.

I was terrified he'd start praying to the gods and spirits again, swearing I was still haunting the apartment. A sudden buzz shattered the memory.

Gideon’s phone lit up on the coffee table. A new text. Eden: Like the chime? I’m swinging by your office tomorrow. Let me buy you lunch? Eden?

My brain scrambled to match the name to the bold girl from the meeting. Gideon coldly rejected every woman who showed interest in him. Why the hell did he accept a gift from her?

Why did he hang it right in the middle of our home? While my mind spun, trying to figure out what I missed during my threeday blackout, Gideon picked up the phone.

He stared at the screen for a long beat. Gideon: What time? Right then and there, the realization hit me like a physical blow. Eden wasn't just another girl to him.

Chapter 4 I stared at that wind chime from across the room.

A suffocating knot tightened in my chest. "Gideon, do you like the chime Eden… I mean, the one I gave you?" "Hmm?" Gideon followed my gaze.

Whatever memory flashed through his mind instantly softened the hard lines of his face. "I love it.

So much." I had braced myself for it, but hearing him confess it so openly still knocked the wind out of me.

My heart felt like it had been soaked in battery acid, a bitter sting burning the back of my throat until I almost burst into tears. "Gideon, can you promise me something?" I stared at his broad back as he headed for the kitchen.

My voice cracked into a pathetic whisper. "From now on… can you just call me Evie?" Evie. Eden’s nickname. And mine, too. Gideon froze midstep. He turned around.

An emotion rippled through his pitchblack eyes. "Okay." His voice trembled, the word slipping from his lips, heavy with endless longing. "—Evie." A week evaporated.

Aside from mandatory board meetings, Gideon stayed locked in the penthouse with me. Then, out of nowhere, he pulled out two VIP passes to the massive coastal amusement park.

He waved them in front of my face. "Wanna get out of here for a bit?" I stared at the faint smirk playing on his lips. Reality blurred.

Suddenly, I was dragged violently back to the past. When I was alive, I used to drag Gideon to theme parks all the time.

We would interlace our fingers on the screaming rollercoasters. We would make out at the very top of the Ferris wheel.

Those perfect, sundrenched memories spun through my head like a relentless carousel. I rubbed my stinging eyes. "Yes.

And you have to ride all the good ones with me again." The word slipped out too easily. I was so caught up in the past, I entirely missed it.

The slight flinch that stiffened Gideon’s posture for a split second.

Standing under the towering steel tracks of the rollercoaster, Gideon hesitated. "Your body…" I met his panicked gaze and quickly cut him off. "I'm fine.

Fully healed!" Ignoring the protests dying on his tongue, I practically dragged him into the cart. The cart plummeted. Gravity vanished.

I squeezed my eyes shut, absurdly terrified my soul would get ripped right out of Eden's body at this speed. Then—heat.

A large, warm palm clamped over the back of my hand. "Don't be afraid." The rushing wind shredded his voice.

Just like he had done a million times before, his fingers locked tightly around mine. I kept my eyes squeezed shut.

Terrified that if I opened them, the wind would rip the tears right out of me. The ride finally braked. A cold sweat coated Gideon’s forehead.

His skin had turned a sickly, translucent white. He pinched the bridge of his nose hard. I quickly grabbed his arm to steady him, confusion spiking. "What's wrong?

Just not used to riding these anymore?" "I'm fine." Gideon forced a weak laugh, shaking his head. His deep voice carried a hint of raw embarrassment. "Just a little dizzy.

It's my first time on one of these." My hand froze midair, right as I reached into my bag for a water bottle. First time?

My voice scraped out of my throat, sounding like shattered glass. "You've… never been on a rollercoaster?" "No." Whatever memory suddenly hit him, it violently wiped the smile off his face. "I regret not coming here sooner." Chapter 5 Why?

Why would Gideon claim it was his first time on a rollercoaster? Why was he lying straight to Eden’s face?

A highpitched ringing pierced my ears, drowning out his panicked voice as his face blurred into a smudge of colors.

A sharp, splitting pressure clamped around my skull, crushing my senses until the world finally slammed to black.

Gideon—the man who never lost his cool—was sprinting toward the park exit. His arms locked in a vice grip around my body. I breathed his name. Barely a raspy exhale.

His dress shoes snagged on the pavement. He stumbled, almost taking us both down to the concrete. "Evie? You’re awake." His chest heaved against mine. "Where does it hurt?

Just hold on, I’m getting you to the ER right now." I had never seen him unravel like this. Pure panic filled his dark eyes. My chest tightened. Then, my stomach violently dropped.

His lie from before the blackout hooked into my brain like barbed wire. Why lie to Eden? Was he so obsessed with her that he needed to thoroughly erase his past with me?

Or was he hiding something else? "Gideon. I'm fine. My blood sugar just crashed. I just need food." I forced my head away.

I strained my jaw, fighting to keep my voice flat and casual. When I was alive, anytime my anxiety spiked, I ate.

Shoving food down my throat somehow kept the panic from crawling up it. His dark eyes scanned my face, desperately searching for a lie. A hard nod. "Fine. We eat.

But if you still feel off, we're going straight to the hospital." He didn't ask what I was craving.

He just shoved the SUV into drive, cutting through back alleys until we idled in front of a rundown, greasyspoon diner. "Here…" My sneakers glued to the pavement.

The flickering, faded neon sign. The heavy scent of old grease and burnt coffee. The sensory details hit me like a freight train. We used to live at this diner.

And after I died, he swore he would never step foot in it again. "What? You've been here?" His tone was completely flat. My pulse hammered against my ribs.

I jerked my head sideways. "No. Never. Just… it’s tiny. In the middle of nowhere. How did you even find this place?" He stared dead at the flickering neon sign.

His eyes glazed over, lost in a memory. "My wife. She used to obsess over the grilled cheese here." He brought me up. To Eden. Willingly.

I could barely control the lump in my throat. I stared hard at the dirty concrete, blinking furiously against the burn in my eyes. "…Really? Let's go in, then.

I want to try… this amazing grilled cheese." I bolted. I shoved the heavy glass door open, running from him. Because I ran, I entirely missed it. The way Gideon stared at my back.

The deep, lingering grief in his eyes. I kept my head down. I shoved bite after greasy bite into my mouth. The cheap metal fork reflected Eden's face.

Everything was exactly the same. But nothing was the same. "Gideon?!" The voice snapped across the diner. Laced with pure rage. My head snapped up.

I slammed right into a brutally familiar face. Roxy. My best friend. Chapter 6 She stood just a few feet away.

Her wide eyes were deadlocked onto Gideon. "Rox—" I gasped, my mouth flying open. But the familiar nickname died on my tongue.

Roxy’s glare slashed toward me like a blade, snapping me right back to reality. Wait. I'm Eden. Eden didn’t know Roxy. I quickly jerked my gaze away.

I swallowed the words so hard they mutated into a violent coughing fit.

To Roxy, my panic just looked like a guilty conscience. "Who the hell is this?" She jabbed a finger in my direction, her sneer fixed entirely on Gideon. "Your new girlfriend?" "Roxy, calm down.

Gideon is just—" Asher started to plead. "Shut your mouth!" Roxy snapped, and his jaw instantly clicked shut. A muscle ticked in Gideon's jaw.

He opened his mouth, but Roxy was already thoroughly unraveled.

She ripped her arm out of Asher’s grip and closed the distance to our booth in three long strides. "It’s barely been three years, Gideon!" she shrieked. "Three years… and you're sitting here laughing over lunch with your shiny new toy?

Are you even human?! Do you even have a heart?!" Honestly, I just wanted to grab her and shake some sense into her. Three years wasn't three days.

Gideon couldn't play the grieving widower for the rest of his natural life. Then I looked up. Fat, heavy tears spilled over Roxy's lower lashes. And Gideon? He just sat there.

His face remained frustratingly blank. A phantom grip clamped around my throat. My breath caught in my throat.

Hot tears instantly filled my eyes. "Did you actually forget, Gideon?" Roxy's voice cracked, raw and hollow. "Today is the anniversary of Vivienne's passing." Boom.

Static exploded in my ears. My vision blurred as I stared at the greasy analog clock on the diner wall. My birthday. The day I died.

For three solid years, my ghost had aggressively blocked out this exact date. But Gideon… Did he actually forget me this year?

When Gideon didn't flinch, a harsh, ugly laugh scraped out of Roxy. She coldly wiped the tears off her cheeks. "You're a walking curse, Gideon.

Your bad luck got your parents killed. And now it got Vivienne killed. You deserve to die alone." The venom hissed through her teeth.

Every single syllable gutted me. "Enough!" I slammed my palms onto the sticky table, shoving myself to my feet. I stared at the wet, ruined mascara streaking down Roxy's face.

My chest physically tore in two.

Her fierce, unyielding loyalty warmed my soul, but her vicious attack on Gideon felt like acid injected straight into my veins. "Rox—" I caught myself just in time.

A crushing wave of grief slammed into my chest. "Don't… don't say that to him. It's not what it looks like." I couldn't even tell anymore.

Was I breaking down for Gideon, or for myself? Roxy's glacial stare locked onto me. "What I think? Who the hell are you?

You don't get to speak for him." She took a sharp step toward me. Gideon, who hadn't moved a muscle, abruptly stood up.

He stepped in front of me, shielding my body with his broad back. He totally blocked Roxy's lethal glare. "Oh, wow.

Shielding the new girl already?" Roxy let out a dark, manic laugh. But the laugh shattered into a broken sob. "Vivienne deserved so much better.

She was so damn blind." Before the last word even left her mouth, she grabbed my untouched ice water off the table and violently hurled it straight at him. Chapter 7