UNSEEN WIDOW

The Unseen Widow

{Sequel to Borderless Female}

I stepped out onto the 10th-floor landing of my Mumbai hotel. Travelling from New Delhi with my husband, Henry, who was here on an official visit, I intended to enjoy the city and awaited the moment he would be free.

Through the large glass window, the Arabian Sea shimmered blue and white. The morning sun lit the walls, and the elevator stood beside the stairwell. It was a glorious morning, yet I felt a slight queasiness.

I recalled a brief blackout in the shower a minute ago. Strangely, although my long hair and slippers were soaked, my pink dress was dry, and my makeup remained intact. A red mark below my hairline nagged at me, but I ignored it and pressed the lift button, eager for breakfast with Henry.

The lift arrived—and Henry stepped out with his assistant Daisy. To my shock, they walked straight through me, as though I were air. I called out, tried to stop them—nothing. They entered our room.

Moments later, Henry staggered out, muttering: “Oh my God… heaven help me, what is this? Is Maria dead?”

His words froze me. I followed inside. Daisy sat pale on the sofa, phone trembling in her hand, staring at the shower room.

I pushed in—and screamed silently.

There was my body. Kneeling by the tub, head twisted at an impossible angle, hair floating in bloody water. A gash on my forehead bled steadily. My right arm dangled lifeless, my leg bent awry. My green nightgown clung to the corpse. Nearby, my pink dress—the one I was now wearing—hung waiting.

Shaking, I touched my face. It felt normal. Slowly, it dawned—I was not alive. What stood here was my spirit, invisible to all. I remembered slipping in the shower, striking my head, drowning as water rose. While Henry was downstairs, my life had ebbed away.

Later, Henry returned, devastated. Daisy comforted him: “Now, now, my brave man… this was only an accident. The police will understand.” He sat hollow, her arms around him. Their closeness revealed what I had long suspected. My heart ached with grief and jealousy even as hotel staff and police removed my body.

Three nights later, I was back in New Delhi—my spirit trailing Henry, who was never alone without Daisy. I hovered by his side through his grief. Many times, I saw him cry openly; she soothed him gently.

One night, I sat before my mirror while he lay awake on the bed. His phone rang—Daisy. He spoke sharply: “Please, I can’t think straight. Don’t force me to promise marriage now.” After cutting the call, he buried his face in his hands.

I wept silently. Part of me wanted Daisy to make his life easier, to fill the void left by my absence. Yet another part screamed: Would he still love me then? I told myself he was free; I was no longer his wife but only a shadow.

Hours passed. Then a soft sound stirred me. The bedroom door shimmered—and Daisy walked through it without opening it. She glided towards me, eyes filled with sorrow.

“Maria, my dear friend… I have joined you.”

Stunned, I whispered, “How?”

“I was coming here. My car crashed. My body lies on the road.”

We embraced, both spirits now. “See the justice,” I murmured. “Neither can I stay with Henry, nor can you have him.”

She held me gently. “Let us leave. Let Henry live as he wishes. Time will heal him.”

Hand in hand, we drifted out into the night. No doors needed to be opened for us. For Henry, all doors remained open.

And time—time would be his only healer.

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The rain that night in New Delhi did not sound like rain. Each drop seemed to bring in more melancholy and darkness. I stood at the corner of our bedroom, unseen, watching Henry press his head against the bed head. His frame shook with noiseless sobs, faintly uttering my name. Daisy stood beside me, our spirit-bodies faintly glowing in the half-dark room.

We had walked away from him hand in hand a little while ago, but we were pulled back—back into this house, back into Henry’s torment. It was as though something refused to let us go.

I whispered, "Why are we still here? We chose release. We stepped away."

Daisy’s eyes darted to the corner of the room. "Maria… we are not alone. Something followed us out and returned with us."

Her words chilled me. I turned and looked around. At first, I saw nothing, only the silhouette of the wardrobe stretching across the wall. But then it moved against the shadows. A form darker than darkness.

A peculiar nasal male voice slithered into the room. Not spoken, but pressed into our minds. “You left nothing unfinished, did you? You think grief is so easily buried? You both think that if you disappear, Henry will forget you, but he will never forget.”

Henry shivered suddenly and clutched his chest. He said, "Maria… forgive me. Daisy… forgive me…" His words were cracked, half-asleep, half-awake.

Daisy clutched my arm. "It feeds on him."

I gulped, "What is it?"

She shook her head and whispered. "A parasite, or you may call it a shadow, that sucks life forces. I heard whispers from the old wise men living near the graveyards about malevolent shadows that thrive on grief. Through evil forces, they bind both death and life so that they ultimately destroy all. The way out is to break the linkage with Henry and save him. "

The parasite undulated like smoke, forming vague, limb-like shapes. It drifted toward Henry’s bed.

I stepped forward, shouting though no human ear could hear me, "Stay away from him!"

The parasite paused. Then it laughed. The sound was dry, like sandpaper rubbing against itself. “You claim him so that you can save him and then leave him? You, split-headed Maria? You, faithless Daisy? You imbecile know nothing! You both belong to me. Henry belongs to me, and you all are in my chains. I decide your fate of Hell.”

I lunged, striking at it with my hands. They passed through, but the parasite recoiled as if it had been stung. Daisy joined me, screaming. Together, we pushed it back into the corner, where it melted into the darkness of the wardrobe.

Henry stirred, muttered something unintelligible, then collapsed into uneasy sleep again.

Daisy fell to the floor, trembling. She said, "It won’t stop. Not until one of us chooses."

I turned sharply. "Chooses what?"

She lifted her tearful face. "To take the darkness into one of us and free him from the parasite."

Hours passed, or perhaps only minutes. In this half-world, time had lost its meaning. I sat beside Henry’s bed, watching his shallow breaths. Daisy sat on the other side, her head bowed.

She said quietly, "Maria, do you still love him?"

The question stabbed me. I answered slowly, "Yes. Beyond death, beyond this torment, I still love him."

She nodded. "So, do I. But my love was different. I was envious of your love and disguised it as devotion for him. I thought if I could take him away from you, he would be mine. But you were gone yourself. And yet… even now, it is you he calls."

I whispered, "Then why are you here still, Daisy?"

She looked at me fiercely. "Because I cannot let the parasite take him. Not Henry.”

A silence grew between us. The rain outside thickened, pounding like fists on the window. Then Henry woke suddenly, sitting bolt upright. His eyes were open, but something in them was wrong—dark, unfocused, as if someone else looked through them.

He said, "Maria… Daisy… why are you here?"

I froze. He could see us. His eyes followed our invisible forms; his lips twisted into a smile not his own.

The parasite was speaking through him.

I shouted, "Henry, fight it!"

Henry’s voice deepened, distorted. He said, "Henry is mine now. Through his grief, I wear his flesh. And through you, I have rooted myself in this house. He will now rot in Hell, borderless, forgotten. All of you!"

Daisy rushed forward. "No!" She pressed her glowing hands against Henry’s chest. His body convulsed, choking. The parasite howled, black smoke pouring from his mouth.

I joined her, pressing my own essence against his heart. "Henry, hear me! You are stronger than this!"

For a moment, Henry’s real voice broke through. He gasped, "Maria… my love… I can’t… I can’t hold it…"

The parasite struck back. A blast of hot, simmering air hurled Daisy across the room. She hit the wall, dissolving briefly into mist before reforming. I staggered, but I held on, pouring everything of myself into Henry.

Memories flooded me—our wedding, our laughter, our quiet nights, but those were memories only, nothing else. For his sake, I should be rid of those. Immense strength gushed inside me, and I muttered into his mind, "I release you; I free you, Henry. You must live. You must let me go."

Something cracked inside him. The parasite screamed, writhing, torn between our forces. Daisy crawled back, her face pale but determined. She said, "Together, Maria. Together now."

We joined our hands over Henry’s chest. Fiercely willing to break our bindings with him. A blinding light burst from us, pure and fierce. The parasites shrieked, twisting into a black storm, and then it shattered into fragments that dissolved into the floor.

Henry collapsed onto the bed, unconscious but breathing steadily.

Daisy fell beside me, exhausted. She said weakly, "It’s gone… for now."

I breathed, "No. Not gone. Only driven back."

For nights after, we lingered. The parasite returned repeatedly, growing weaker with each passing moment, yet remaining persistent. Each time Henry’s grief surged, the parasite clawed its way back into his mind, his hissed to bind with us. We fought it tirelessly to break our connection with Henry.

But the cost grew heavy. Daisy was fading. Her glow dimmed with each battle.

One night, after a vicious struggle, she collapsed in the corner. She said, "Maria… I cannot hold on. The only way to end this… is if one of us goes with it."

I froze. "What are you saying?"

She looked at me with steady eyes. "If I merge myself with the parasite, become a part of him, but before I lose all my light, I can drag it into beyond the borders from where no evil can come into this world. I can take it where it can no longer harm us.  But I will never return. Not to Henry. Not to peace. Remain only in eternal darkness."

I cried out, "No! Daisy, you cannot—"

She interrupted, "You love him more. He needs your memory, not mine. Let me do this. Let me atone."

I grasped her hand desperately. "There must be another way!"

But even as I spoke, the parasite burst again from the floor, towering, enraged. Henry screamed in his sleep. The room shook with unnatural wind.

Daisy looked at me one last time. She said, "Tell him I also love him."

And then she hurled herself into the shadow.

The room exploded with light and darkness colliding. I shielded my eyes. A roar shook the very walls. Then—silence.

I closed my eyes momentarily, and when I opened them again, both Daisy and the evil parasite or the shadow had disappeared as if they were never there. Only Henry remained, sleeping peacefully for the first time since my death. He never knew of Daisy’s final sacrifice, but I remembered.

I stayed, watching him, but I felt sprightlier now. A mirage of another world shimmered faintly in the distance, a blue light always calling. I stood by his bed as he slept. I bent low, whispering, "I love you, Henry. But I must go."

His lips curved into a faint smile in sleep, as though he heard. But shook his head faintly as if stopping me.

I turned to the window. The rain had stopped. The moon shone silver over the quiet city. Behind me, Henry dreamed of a beach, golden and endless. Daisy’s laughter echoed faintly across the waves.

And I knew she had found peace after all. Or is it my mistake? How could she he happy in darkness?

 

The house had fallen quiet, unnaturally so. Daisy’s sacrifice carried a strange calm, but the silence never felt pure. It was weighted, like air pressing against the walls, like lungs refusing to breathe fully.

Days, I could no longer tell how many—passed quietly. The house grew calmer. Henry rose from his despair, little by little. I drifted from room to room, watching Henry resume his routines—his morning shaving, self-cooking, exercises, return from the office, with the faint creases of exhaustion under his eyes, and so many other mundane activities.

From the other side, I felt a mixture of pride and grief. Pride, because Daisy’s choice had given him freedom. Grief, because I felt my own presence in his life slipping away. Each day, he seemed to laugh a little more at colleagues’ jokes, even visit friends for short dinners. Yet when night came, when sleep took him, I heard him murmur both our names—mine and Daisy’s—as though in dreams we still lingered close.

But the nights had another sound too—the wardrobe.

At first, it was subtle—a creak when no wind blew, the faintest scrape as though fingernails brushed against wood. I told myself it was a habit, a form of paranoia, that Daisy had taken the parasite with her. Yet in this half-world where I floated, time had sharpened my senses. And I knew. Something was wrong.

One late night, Henry stirred restlessly in bed, his breath shallow. I went closer, fearing another visitation. His body twisted as though resisting an unseen grip.

Then I saw it—the parasite.

Not full, not the column of black storm it once had been, but a thin dark remnant of smoke, seeping out from beneath the wardrobe door. It slithered across the carpet like spilt ink, rising toward Henry’s mouth.

“No!” I screamed, diving at it. My essence flared, and the shadow recoiled, hissing. But unlike before, it did not vanish—it seeped back, slipping under the wood again.

I stared in horror. Daisy’s sacrifice had not destroyed it. She had only dragged a part of it away. The parasite remained, weaker perhaps, but alive and here.

And worse—it was learning. Then it disappeared.

The following night confirmed my dread. Henry began to talk in his sleep again, but not with the broken mutterings of grief. His words were coherent, purposeful.

“Yes… I understand,” he whispered once.
Another night, he murmured, “You will help me forget her?”

Each time, my heart froze. Who was he speaking to? When I tried to peer into Henry’s mind, the fog of the shadow blocked me.

I went to the wardrobe. Pressing my being against the door, I listened. And I heard them—two voices, faint and overlapping.

One was the parasite. Its tone was the same—dry, ancient, amused. The other was… Daisy. However, these two voices seemed to merge into one.

I reeled back. Impossible. She had gone with the parasite, yes, but I thought into destruction, into a void beyond even spirits. Yet here she was—I could hear her voice, whispering to Henry.

But her tone was not the Daisy I remembered. It was softer, more coaxing, almost… intimate.

A few days passed, and Henry began to change. He dressed with unusual care, combed his hair as though expecting company. Once, at the mirror, I heard him mumble, “You look beautiful today,” his lips curving into a private smile.

He was not speaking to himself.

At night, I saw the bed dip slightly beside him, as though another lay with him—the space where Daisy had been, but I could not see her.

I cried out, “Daisy! If it’s truly you, resist! Don’t let the parasite use you!”

But there was no response—only Henry’s sighs of comfort, as though cradled by invisible arms.

It was on the twelfth night that the truth struck me like lightning. I confronted the wardrobe again, forcing my essence into its black mouth. For a moment, I pierced the veil of darkness. And I saw them.

Daisy, her glow dim, her eyes unnaturally bright, stood beside the parasite, hand in hand, both seemed to be becoming one and separate.

She said coldly, “Maria, you think I sacrificed myself for him? No. I chose power. The parasite gave me what you denied me in life—Henry’s exclusive love. His grief was never for me, always for you. But now, with the parasite binding him to me, Henry sees only me in his dreams. He loves me now. Soon, he will join me in my world forever.” 

The parasite laughed. “She, borderless as you both were, came willingly to me. You chose love; she opted for envy. And envy always hungers deeper.”

I staggered back, trembling. Daisy—my friend, my rival, my sister in this half-death—had become the shadow’s consort. The parasite had made her evil, too!

The changes in Henry grew undeniable. He stopped answering friends’ calls and stopped going to work. Curtains drawn, doors locked, he stayed within the house, scribbling furiously in a diary. I peered over his shoulder one evening.

Pages and pages of words filled them—conversations with Daisy. Not memories, but present-tense dialogues.

“Tonight, you looked radiant,” he wrote.
“You said I must never leave you, and I promise that I will never do that.”
“Thanks! You promised me eternity.”

And beneath his scrawls, I saw the inked shapes of the parasite—curved black symbols that bled into the page like oil.

I was trapped. To fight the parasite with Daisy as part of it again risked Henry’s very life. To leave him meant surrendering him to Daisy’s corrupted spirit. I wandered the city’s half-world, seeking wisdom from other shades. Some ignored me; some wept at their own chains. But one old man near the cemetery whispered, “When two cling to one living, the third must break free. Else the living becomes the dead.”

The third. That was me.

Was my lingering love the steadfast anchor that made the parasite hold to Henry and Daisy? Was Daisy’s betrayal only possible because my core still clung to him?

The thought tore me apart. To save him, I might have to abandon him forever. I need to go into darkness and not jeopardise his life in the bargain.

It came sooner than I feared.

One stormy night, the shadow —the parasite—fully emerged, towering over the bed. Daisy stood beside it, glowing faintly, her smile cruel.

“Maria,” she said. “You had your time. Now it is mine. Go away. Leave us.”

Henry stirred, his eyes half-open, glazed. He whispered, “Daisy…” reaching toward her form, not mine.

I cried in desperation, “Henry! That is not her! She is bound to darkness!”

But his eyes only softened. “She saved me. You left me in death, Maria. Daisy stayed.”

The parasite’s laugh filled the room. “Yes. Henry chooses her. And through her, he chooses me.”

I lunged at Daisy, but she caught my wrists with spectral strength. “You happened to be the beloved one, Maria. For once, let me have him- always.”

I screamed, pushing against her, my light flaring. Then the parasite howled, recoiling and disappearing, along with Daisy. Then only she reappeared. The parasite tried to reappear but exploded into smithereens as if never to return.

Suddenly, Henry was muttering weakly, “Maria… Maria…Maria…?

 

 

 

And then I understood.

The parasite had become Daisy, and this transition had broken her hold over Henry, even momentarily.   

I looked into Daisy’s eyes, and I saw it—the flicker of the woman she once was, trapped, consumed, only wanting Henry. But she knew her evil ways could never win over Henry permanently.

Henry wanted me! His wife, his beloved for years, who had given him so much love.

Daisy said, voice trembling, “He loves me now, Maria. Doesn’t he? Say it—say Henry loves me.” She wanted my confirmation so that she could prevail over Henry again.

I stepped forward and held her face. “No, Daisy. He never did. And that is why you are lost.”

Her scream split the walls. The shadow lashed out, a black storm filling the room and gradually weakening and fading. Henry’s body convulsed. I pressed myself against him one final time.

“Henry,” I whispered, “remember me only as love. Forget Daisy. Forget grief. Forget me. Live.”

The mirage of another world was open behind me, brighter than ever before. My spirit was being pulled, whether I willed it or not. Daisy shrieked, clawing at me, a pale form disintegrating. “No! If you leave, I vanish too!  Henry does not love me. Don’t leave me alone in this darkness without Henry!”

However, I must break my bond with Henry; it was needed for his life, happiness, and peace.

As I was drawn into the light, I saw Henry’s body jerk awake. He gasped deeply, his eyes clear for the first time in months. He whispered, “Maria…” and then, softer, “Goodbye.”

Daisy howled, disintegrating her form, scattered into smoke, torn apart by her own emptiness.

And then there was silence.

From beyond the mirage, I glimpsed Henry once more. He rose, opened the curtains, and for the first time in so many days, sunlight streamed into the house. He walked outside, leaving the door ajar.

But as the scene dimmed from my sight, I noticed one thing—on his desk, the diary lay open. And in the margin of the last page, a fresh line appeared, written in a hand not his own:

“I will never leave you, Henry. Not even in light.”

Daisy had written that?

My God! The haunting had perhaps not ended. It may have only begun anew. But I would never allow it again!

28th August 2025