"Ella?" Adam's voice trembled with confusion as he stared at the photograph he had just taken. His eyes darted back to the spot where he had captured the image, but the woman was no longer there.

He shook his head in disappointment. It was impossible for his wife to be alive after all this time. He glanced down at the DSLR camera in his hand and examined the picture again.

"Are you ghosting me, my wife?" he murmured sadly, staring at the girl's face in the photograph. Adam didn't believe in ghosts, but if there were a way for the deceased to reach out, he would welcome it, just to see Erela once more.

Years had passed, yet the memories remained vivid. Especially here, in this place—the last place they had visited before the tragedy. Each time the memories resurfaced, the pain in his chest intensified.

"I'm sorry, Erela. Forgive me, my wife," he whispered, tears streaming down his face.

He closed his eyes tightly, allowing the happy memories to flood his mind. He saw Erela, her radiant smile and sparkling eyes, playing on the beach, chasing the waves.

But now, he would never see that smile again.

"Sir? Are you alright?" A familiar voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Sir? Is there a problem?" The voice repeated from behind him.

No, it was just his mind playing tricks on him. He was reliving his memories, that was all. Embarrassed by his tears, he quickly wiped them away.

Taking a deep breath, he turned to face the woman. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you—" He froze, his body stiffening in shock.

No. This couldn't be real.

His mind was still playing tricks on him. His wife was dead. He would never see her again. But why? Why did the woman standing before him look exactly like his wife?