My Ex Begged Me for a Second Chance

On the seventh day after his death, when the soul's tether to the mortal world was meant to snap, Ramon Chavez walked into the Ninth Abyss Pawnshop. A woman was beside him.

She wore a white Victorian dress, her face pale as a ghost, clutching his sleeve. "Ramon, it's so cold in here. Do we really have to go inside?"

Ramon looked down at her, his voice soft. "Don't worry. I'm here."

Behind the counter, the keeper heard that familiar voice and froze. A decade had passed. The keeper had never expected to see her ex-husband again.

The shop's brass bell chimed even though there was no breeze. The keeper raised their head, studying them through the black veil, and spoke the ritual words. "What wish would the two of you like to pawn?"

Ramon's gaze lingered on the keeper's face, his brow furrowing slightly—that old habit of displeasure. Then he looked away, sliding a dark wooden plaque across the counter. "I heard you can pawn anything here."

The keeper glanced down at the plaque bearing Ramon's name. It read: "Age at death: 37. Cause of death: Car accident."

The keeper's fingertip tapped lightly over the name, brushing away the mist that clung to it, then looked toward Brinley Austin at Ramon's side. Her plaque was darker, its edges tinged crimson. The guilt-ridden always carried heavier plaques.

The keeper closed the Ledger of Fates. "And what would you like in exchange?"

Ramon was silent for a moment. Brinley tugged his sleeve, whispering, "Ramon, let it go. We're already gone. Let the past rest."

Ramon didn't listen. "I want to know why, after my ex-wife died, she never came back to see me. Not once."

The keeper's fingers tightened on the Ledger of Fates. The lantern flames swayed as if caught in a wind that wasn't there, and the wall of contracts rattled softly.

The Ninth Abyss Pawnshop reacted to its owner's emotions. When the keeper's mood shifted, everything in the shop felt it first. Ramon seemed oblivious, going on. "She died ten years ago."

"In all those years, she never showed up in my dreams, never left me a single word, never came to see me—not once. I want to know if she still resents me."

Brinley's face went pale, her hands trembling at her sides. Even though Ramon's questions sounded sincere, the keeper found them absurd. When he was alive, Ramon had never trusted her. Now that he was dead, he wanted to drag up old grievances.

The Ninth Abyss Pawnshop existed in the space between life and death, serving three kinds of patrons: the living consumed by obsession, the dead who refused to move on, and those carrying forgotten, unpaid debts. Ramon fit all three.

The keeper reopened the Ledger of Fates, flipping to a page from ten years ago. On that page sat a name: Seraphina Harrison.

In a low voice, the keeper read from the book. "Ten years ago, Seraphina Harrison came to this very shop."

Ramon's head snapped up. Brinley's face went blank with shock.

"What did she pawn?"

The keeper's eyes dropped to the line of vermilion text. That day, newly dead, Seraphina had stood at the shop's threshold, her spirit soaked by rain, clutching a shattered wedding ring.

She'd begged the shopkeeper to let her enter Ramon's dreams. She wanted to tell him she hadn't betrayed him, hadn't pushed Brinley down the stairs, and that her car accident wasn't an accident. But the Ledger of Fates gave her one answer: Ramon didn't want to see her.

If a living person instinctively rejects a spirit's intrusion into their dreams, the spirit could pawn everything and still never get in. That evening, Seraphina changed her wish. She pawned ten years of her potential happiness in exchange for Ramon suffering the same fate.

Ramon stared at the keeper. "Speak! What did she pawn in exchange for?"

The keeper picked up the appraisal stamp, dipped it in vermilion ink, and pressed it beside Ramon's plaque. "She pawned her future happiness to give you ten years of health and safety."

The color drained from Ramon's face as if he'd just heard an impossible tale. Brinley shrieked, "Impossible! If she traded her future happiness for your safety, how did we die so soon? I hadn't even started to really live!"

The keeper turned to her. "If you don't believe me, you're welcome to leave."

The shop shook with the keeper's anger, the roar of a great beast echoing from the void. Terrified, Brinley clapped her hands over her ears, hiding behind Ramon. Same as always—stirring up trouble and then hiding behind him.

The keeper closed the Ledger of Fates. "Does the guest wish to pawn anything else?"

Ramon leaned heavily on the counter, seeming to deflate. "I want to know what she went through before she died."

The keeper placed a hand upon the scales of fate, the copper pans rising slowly on either side. "That answer comes at a steep price."

"How steep?"

"All the good fortune waiting for you in every life to come."

Brinley grabbed his hand at once. "No! Ramon, we just died. You can't give that away. What if you end up somewhere terrible in the next life?"

Ramon was quiet for a long time. Then he placed his plaque on the scales. "Deal."

"Ramon!"

The moment the words left his mouth, the left pan of the scales sank hard. Ramon gripped the counter as a muted grunt of pain tore from his throat. The agony seemed to claw up from his bones, ripping through his very soul.

Deep inside the shop, a dust-coated copper mirror began to glow. "Guest, please follow me to the Soul Reflection Hall."

Ramon watched the keeper's retreating figure, then suddenly asked, "Who are you?"

"The keeper of the Ninth Abyss Pawnshop."

Ramon stared at the keeper. "Have I met you before?"

The keeper gave a slight smile. "All guests here think I remind them of someone."

As the door to the Soul Reflection Hall opened, fog swirled behind it. The rain-drenched night from ten years prior slowly surfaced in the mirror.

The keeper heard Ramon's breathing turn uneven. The first image in the mirror was Seraphina's last phone call to him before she died. On the other end of the line, his voice had been cold, utterly devoid of feeling. "Seraphina, if you're going to die, do it far away. Don't disgust me with your pathetic little tricks."