Daniel didn’t sleep that night.
He lay in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun slowly, like time was mocking him.
Every time he closed his eyes, her voice echoed.
“You left me in the fire…”
“I still wear the ring…”
But it was just a prank. Just a joke. Just a crazy woman on the street… wasn’t it?
Then why did it feel like a hand was reaching into his chest, squeezing something he didn’t know was still broken?
Daniel grabbed his phone, unlocked it, and typed one thing into Google:
“Fire incident. Little girl. House. Daniel.”
Nothing came up.
But something inside him wouldn’t let it go. He hadn’t told anyone about the fire. Not even Tom. It happened when he was a child. A memory he had buried deep beneath years of laughter, fake smiles, and online clout.
A home had burned down.
A little girl had died.
His best friend.
Amara.
But Amara had been gone for 16 years. How could this strange woman know that name?
How could she be her?
The next morning, Daniel did something he never did: he returned to the same street—alone.
People stared at him differently now. Some whispered. Others pointed.
But the woman was gone.
No cardboard, no bag, no humming.
Just an empty sidewalk where madness used to sit.
He asked around.
“Have you seen the woman that usually sits here?”
An old vendor gave him a tired look. “Which one? The crazy one that sings?”
Daniel nodded. “Yes, her. The one from yesterday.”
The old man scratched his chin. “Boy… there’s been no one sitting there for two weeks now. Not since the police carried her body.”
Daniel’s heart skipped. “What?”
“She died,” the vendor said plainly. “Overdosed or something. Happened two Fridays ago.”
Daniel took a step back. “No. I spoke to her yesterday. I… I proposed to her!”
The old man looked at him, eyes narrowing. “Boy, are you okay?”
Daniel ran.
He ran through the market, past the bus stops, past the people—until he reached Tom’s house.
“Please tell me you still have the footage,” Daniel gasped, out of breath. “The prank. Yesterday. The woman.”
Tom nodded slowly, confused. “Yeah, of course. Why?”
They sat, pulled up the video.
There it was—Daniel kneeling, the woman standing.
Tom pressed play.
And then… something horrifying happened.
In the video, she wasn’t speaking.
She wasn’t even moving.
She just stared at Daniel. No sound. No voice. Nothing.
Note_ this story belongs to jennylight any other page aside from hers stole it.
But Daniel remembered the words. He heard them clearly. How could the camera not catch them?
Then came the twist.
Tom paused the video. “Wait. Look… what’s that?”
Zoom in.
On her hand.
A rusted, blackened ring—barely hanging onto her bony finger. Shaped like the same plastic ring Daniel had jokingly offered.
But… Daniel never gave it to her. He still had it in his bag.
Tom zoomed in more.
The ring was melted, like it had survived intense heat.
A fire.
Daniel’s breath caught.
His hands trembled.
“I gave her that ring… when I was seven,” he whispered.
Tom blinked. “You what?”
“In our backyard. I told her when we grew up, I’d marry her. That she was my best friend. She laughed. I slipped the ring on her finger.”
Tom stared.
“She died in a house fire two weeks later. I was too scared to save her. I ran.”
Silence.
Daniel’s voice cracked. “But she came back… and I mocked her.”
Tom closed the laptop slowly.
“Bro… you just proposed to a ghost.”
Daniel covered his face with both hands, his heart breaking under the weight of guilt.
Then… his phone rang.
An unknown number.
He answered, voice shaking. “Hello?”
The line crackled.
Then came the same voice.
Her voice.
“Don’t cry, Daniel. I’m not here to punish you… I just want you to remember.”