Supernatural thriller | Rising fashion influencer Rhea is gearing up for her runway debut, but her perfect world is upended when she finds herself haunted by a ghostly doppelganger.
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Twenty-four-year-old Rhea Patel has it all-the career in fash...
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"It's clear you have no idea how much I love you. Sure, the money is great, but I will literally lay down and die for you. After all these years, how can you not see it?" As Nolan spoke to the other Rhea, his ghastly double remained at his side, murmuring into his ear.
What did he whisper? I sneered at the thought, the possibilities. Even as I contemplated, a dark angry energy formed around them both as a dense black mist. It contrasted the stark white that surrounded us all in the studio.
Of course, the other Rhea didn't see it and therefore didn't react to it. She only shook her head at his words. "You say that every time I threaten to leave and live my life the way I want. That's always been your way of making me feel guilty, so I stay, and we make love, and the cycle continues. But not anymore, Nolan. It ends today."
I nodded. "Yes," I whispered. Maybe like ghost Nolan, my words could somehow make it into her ears and penetrate her mind. "The cycle ends today."
Nolan gulped and sighed. "Rhea, come on now. Listen—"
I shook my head at his attempt to change her mind. She answered, "No, I'm always listening. That's all I do, but when is it my turn to start being listened to? If you really loved me or cared, you would've told me you wanted to manage Joselyn Murphy's acting career. But you didn't because that's a conflict of interest and you know I wouldn't have agreed."
"So, she told you, huh?" He dropped his gaze, but my eyes went to his bloody look-a-like hovering at his shoulder. The bridge bone of his eyebrows became more prominent, showcasing his scowl.
As the couple continued arguing I glanced behind them at the door that led to the hall and the adjacent apartment.
With the mere thought of the apartment, the environment changed, and I found myself in the kitchen next to the bar counter. I glanced around the space, taking it in. The low lights set the warm tone and for a second I wondered how I had made the transition and what it signified.
I couldn't think long as the traces of sweet wine entered my nostrils, briefly distracting me. I glanced at the floor where cherry red stained the grout of the tiles, reminding me of two things; the shattered bottle of the tampered liquor, and the liquid that pooled around my head as I had lay on that very floor.
My gaze snapped to the hefty diamond shaped trophy on the counter with my name and the words "top multiracial fashion influencer" etched on the glass. An idea popped into my mind. If Nolan couldn't see the trophy, he wouldn't use it to hurt her.
From the other room, my voice reverberated through the space before reaching my ears. "I'm calling my mom and telling her I'm finally coming home, because I'm not staying here one more night."
"Are you serious?" Nolan's voice grew aggressive as it trailed my voice from somewhere outside of my immediate space. "You'd reconcile with that woman after the things she's said about you, us, and your career? She wished ill on you for choosing the path you chose."
