I Slept With My Boyfriend Without Knowing He’d Been Dead for Two Days — Now, I’m Pregnant with His Soul Child

I swear, I saw him. I held him. I kissed him. I could still hear his soft laugh, just like before. His breath was hot—the taste of peppermint still on his lips. He was still wearing the gray hoodie I always teased because he was like a “bad boy with a heart of gold.” He was real. He held me all night. He whispered “Main tumse pyar karta hoon” in my ear. He said we would get married next year.

I remembered every moment—the way his fingers ran down my arm. The way he sobbed as I sobbed. The way he loved me so much—it felt like every kiss he gave me was piercing my soul.

And then… he was gone.

When I woke up, I was alone. But I wasn’t scared. I just thought he had gone out for a jog, as he usually does every morning. The pillow still smelled of his sandalwood scent. My body was still warm from his caresses. But something was different.

I called.
No answer.
Another one.
Still nothing.

Until Neha, my best friend, entered the room—face pale. Eyes puffy.

“Aanya…” she called softly. “Don’t you know yet?”

I laughed. “Know which one?”

“Aarav is dead.”

I closed my eyes. “What do you mean, dead?”

She sobbed harder. “It’s been two days. Car accident. Heavy rain night in Delhi.”

No.
No.
No!

I screamed. I pushed him away. I told him his joke was bad. It wasn’t funny. I showed her Aarav’s text from last night. His voice message:
“Raste mein hoon, jaan. I miss your hug.”

She looked at my phone—her fingers were shaking.

“Aanya… she can’t send anything anymore. She was in the crematorium by then.”

Suddenly, the world around her spun. I felt like I was drowning in my own breath. My knees gave way.

I ran to the bathroom. I grabbed the towel she had used—still wet. Her hoodie was on the floor. Her bite on my shoulder.

She was here.
I was sure.

But the truth is… she was buried yesterday at the Lodhi Road Crematorium.

And somehow, I was still with her last night.

Days passed. I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her—sometimes standing at the foot of the bed. Sometimes whispering in my ear.

One night, I heard her whisper:

“Rona mat, jaan. Yahan hoon main.”

(“Don’t cry, honey. I’m still here.”)

I tried to record her. But all I got on the audio was static and me gasping.

And then…
she didn’t come to me.

Twice.

I thought it was stress. Trauma.

Until I threw up five times in one day.

I took a pregnancy test.

Two lines.

Positive.

I collapsed on the floor.

No one else had ever slept with me but Aarav.

But…
she was dead.

Buried. Withering in the ground. No more.

But something was building inside me.

Someone was kicking every night.

And every time I cry and say I can’t do it…

A whisper from the darkness:

“I’m here. Our child is coming.”

I Slept Beside My Boyfriend Not Knowing He’d Been Dead for Two Days — Now, I’m Pregnant with His Spirit’s Child
Chapter 2 – “The Reversed Door”

I wasn’t sure when things around me started moving on their own.

At first, I thought I was just tired. Or maybe forgetful. But by the third night, I noticed something strange: my bedroom door was always slightly open in the morning—even though I made sure to lock it and latch it before going to sleep.

There was no one else in the house. All the locks were intact. But every night, it felt like someone else was coming back to me.

One night, I woke up because something caressed my belly. A light, cold touch. As if someone was making sure that the life growing inside me was safe.

There were whispers, too. Clearer now. More complete.

“Protect the baby, Aanya. Someone wants to take it.”

Who?
Why?

I didn’t know if he was speaking to me… or to himself.

The next day, Neha came to visit again. She brought an envelope—files from her cousin, a police officer who handled Aarav’s case.

“I shouldn’t be showing you this,” she said, voice trembling. “But you need to know.”

I slowly opened the envelope.

Photos.

Aarav’s body.

And the bruise on the back of his head.

It didn’t come from the car crash.

It wasn’t from the dashboard.

It was blunt force trauma. From something heavy and hard—like a hammer.

“Aanya…” Neha’s voice was barely audible. “…he didn’t die in the accident. Someone killed him. And it was planned.”

My eyes widened. My stomach turned.

“Who?” I whispered.

She pulled out another document—a printout of text messages from another phone.

“There’s a woman. Her name is Prisha Malhotra.”

The world stopped.

I knew her.

Aarav’s coworker. The one they always joked about being “just friends.”

Aarav once told me:
“She’s like a sister. Don’t be jealous, babe.”

But in one of the texts, I read:

“If you can’t leave that woman, I’ll find another way to make you mine. Say you’re mine—or we both go down.”

A message from Prisha, two weeks before Aarav’s death.

And now… here I was. A pregnant woman, drowning in silence, with no one to confide in.

One night, the TV turned on by itself.

A CCTV clip began to play—the footage from the small camera Aarav had installed under the house, “for our safety,” he once said. I never paid it much attention.

But now… there was a face.

Prisha.

She entered through the gate. At 2:17 AM—the same time of Aarav’s “accident.”

She was holding a crowbar.

And at the end of the footage, a whisper pierced the stillness of the room:

“She’s lying. And she’s not done yet.”

---

By my second month of pregnancy, I started bleeding. I trembled in the hospital bed, sobbing.

As the nurse adjusted my IV, I heard a whisper near my ear.
But no one was there.

“She won’t take my child. I won’t let her. You won’t lose him, Aanya.”

I closed my eyes. Held back my tears. Cradled my weakening belly.

This was just the beginning.

This wasn’t just the ghost of a lost love.

This was a guardian of his bloodline.

And I—I was the vessel of his vengeance.

To be continued…