😱 I Found Out I Was Pregnant with My Dead Boyfriend’s Child—Then His Ghost Returned with a Terrifying Warning
I Slept with My Boyfriend Not Knowing He Had Died Two Days Earlier—Now I’m Pregnant with His Ghost’s Child
Episode 2
S. couldn’t stop staring at the pregnancy test lying on the bathroom floor.
Two bright pink lines.
She blinked several times, hoping they would disappear.
They didn’t.
The tiny apartment suddenly felt impossibly quiet. Every ordinary sound became overwhelming—the steady ticking of the wall clock, rain drumming against the windows, the distant rumble of thunder, even the trembling rhythm of her own heartbeat.
“No…” she whispered.
“This can’t be real.”
She picked up the test with shaking hands and looked again.
Positive.
Only three days earlier, she had spent the night in T.’s arms. She could still remember the warmth of his skin, the way he laughed, the peppermint scent on his hoodie, the promise he whispered before sunrise.
“I’ll never leave you.”
Then she had learned the impossible.
T. had died in a motorcycle accident two days before that night ever happened.
The dates refused to make sense.
The police report was clear.
The funeral photographs were real.
His family had buried him.
Yet she had kissed him.
Held him.
Loved him.
Every memory felt vivid enough to touch.
Now she was carrying a child that should never have existed.
She refused to sleep that night.
Instead, she turned on every light in the apartment.
The kitchen.
The hallway.
The bedroom.
Even the bathroom.
The brightness offered little comfort.
Outside, rain continued falling over the city, washing the streets beneath pale orange streetlights.
At exactly 3:00 a.m., every light flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then all at once.
The room became unnaturally cold.
Not the kind of cold that came from rain.
This was different.
Heavy.
Ancient.
Like opening the door to an abandoned cathedral.
A familiar scent drifted through the apartment.
Peppermint.
S.’s breath caught.
“T…?”
Silence.
Then—
Footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Behind her.
She turned.
Standing beside the bedroom doorway was T.
He looked exactly as she remembered.
The oversized gray hoodie.
Dark jeans.
Messy hair.
A faint smile.
Only his eyes had changed.
They carried a sadness she had never seen before.
“I told you,” he said softly.
“I would never leave you.”
Tears instantly filled S.’s eyes.
“No…”
She shook her head violently.
“No… you’re dead.”
“I know.”
His voice carried no fear.
Only acceptance.
“I am.”
“Then how are you here?”
“There are things you don’t understand yet.”
She took one hesitant step toward him.
“I don’t care.”
Another step.
“I just want you back.”
He smiled sadly.
“I wish it were that simple.”
She reached out.
Her fingers almost touched his hand—
—but he stepped backward.
The shadows swallowed part of his body.
“You have to listen carefully.”
“What?”
“You need to find the old woman near A. Bridge.”
“Who is she?”
“She knows why our child is different.”
“Our…”
The word echoed inside S.’s mind.
“Our child.”
Before she could ask another question, the room trembled.
The lights flashed.
The temperature returned to normal.
T. disappeared.
Only the scent of peppermint remained.
The next morning, S. barely remembered driving to the hospital.
She convinced herself there had to be another explanation.
Maybe the first pregnancy test was defective.
Maybe stress had caused hallucinations.
Maybe grief had broken her mind.
The doctor performed another test before scheduling an ultrasound.
Minutes later, S. lay silently on the examination bed while cold gel spread across her stomach.
The doctor frowned.
He adjusted the monitor.
Looked again.
Adjusted it once more.
His expression slowly changed.
“Doctor?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
“This…”
He swallowed.
“…doesn’t make sense.”
Fear spread through S.’s chest.
“What’s wrong?”
He stared at the monitor.
“The pregnancy appears normal…”
He hesitated.
“But…”
“But what?”
“The heartbeat.”
“What about it?”
“It shouldn’t be this strong.”
He increased the volume.
The heartbeat filled the room.
Instead of sounding like a tiny infant’s rhythm…
It sounded almost…
deliberate.
Strong.
Perfectly steady.
As though it belonged to something much older.
The doctor leaned closer.
“I’m having trouble seeing the baby’s face.”
Static suddenly flashed across the screen.
The image distorted.
Horizontal lines rippled across the monitor.
“What…”
For less than one second—
A tiny figure appeared.
Not curled like an unborn baby.
It seemed upright.
Watching.
Looking directly toward them.
Its eyes opened.
The monitor instantly went black.
The machine shut itself off.
Neither of them moved.
The doctor slowly stepped away.
His hands trembled.
“I’ve practiced medicine for twenty-eight years.”
His voice barely rose above a whisper.
“I’ve never seen anything like that.”
S. left the hospital without taking the printed scan.
She couldn’t bear to look at it.
Instead, she drove toward A. Bridge.
The bridge crossed an old river locals avoided after sunset.
Stories surrounded it.
Disappearances.
Ghost sightings.
Strange lights.
Most people laughed them off.
Today, S. wasn’t laughing.
Rain had stopped.
Fog drifted above the water.
As she stepped onto the bridge, she noticed someone waiting.
An elderly woman dressed entirely in white.
Barefoot.
Silver hair reaching her waist.
She looked directly at S.
Not surprised.
Almost…
expecting her.
“You came.”
“You know who I am?”
“I knew you would come before sunrise.”
S.’s voice trembled.
“T. sent me.”
The old woman nodded.
“I know.”
“Who are you?”
“My name doesn’t matter anymore.”
She looked down at S.’s stomach.
Then closed her eyes.
Her face darkened.
“Oh…”
“What?”
“You’re too late.”
“What do you mean?”
“The child has already chosen.”
“Chosen what?”
“Its destiny.”
S.’s breathing quickened.
“I don’t understand.”
“You will.”
The old woman sighed deeply.
“This child was never meant to belong to only one world.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It carries blood from the living…”
She paused.
“…and a soul connected to the dead.”
S. stumbled backward.
“No.”
“The moment you accepted T.’s final embrace…”
“The boundary was broken.”
S. felt sick.
“There must be a way to stop this.”
The old woman’s eyes filled with sympathy.
“There was.”
Silence.
“But that chance passed the moment you heard the heartbeat.”
A sudden crunch echoed behind them.
Footsteps.
Not one.
Several.
The old woman turned first.
Three figures stood at the opposite end of the bridge.
Each wore long black coats despite the summer heat.
Their faces remained hidden beneath wide hoods.
None of them hurried.
They simply watched.
Waiting.
One stepped forward.
His smile was strangely calm.
“So…”
“We finally found the ghost’s child.”
The old woman’s expression hardened.
“Run.”
“What?”
“NOW!”
Before S. could react, the air around the bridge became impossibly cold again.
The river beneath them began to ripple violently without a single gust of wind.
The three strangers continued walking forward…
…while somewhere behind S., carried by the freezing breeze, came the unmistakable scent of peppermint once again.
And a familiar voice whispered only one sentence.
“Don’t let them touch our baby.”
To Be Continued…
