My husband’s childhood sweetheart accused me of intentional homicide.
In response, my husband upheld "justice" over family ties and personally led the charge to apprehend me. Together with his childhood sweetheart, he even started a live broadcast to declare my "crimes" to the entire internet.
But when he painstakingly tracked me down, he discovered that I had already died seven days ago.
Bang!
The front door of my house was violently kicked open by my husband, Denver Watkins.
“She must be hiding in here! Search the place!” he ordered the officers behind him.
Armed police officers passed right through my intangible soul as they stormed into the house. After a thorough search yielded nothing, Denver glared coldly at my parents.
“Where is Sheila?” he demanded.
My father clutched his wildly beating heart, his eyes full of confusion. “What’s going on? Sheila isn’t here.”
Denver’s eyes were filled with suspicion as he responded, “Stop covering for her. The arson and murder case this morning has been confirmed—she’s the one who did it!”
My parents were visibly shocked. “Impossible! Sheila would never harm anyone, let alone commit arson! You’ve got it wrong.”
But Denver was resolute. “Stop lying for her. Hand her over now!”
I was bewildered. Why would Denver bring the police to arrest me? Seven days ago, I died for unknown reasons, and my soul somehow returned to our home. How could I have committed arson and murder this morning?
Denver's expression was stern as he continued.
“Micah saw it with her own eyes—Sheila set the fire and then fled the scene. If you shelter her, you’ll all face jail time!”
Upon hearing him, I was filled with disbelief. So it was Micah slandering me again.
Disappointment filled me as I gazed at the man I had loved for five years.
In his heart, was I truly so malicious?
When my parents tried to defend me further, Denver pulled out his phone and began recording them.
“Sheila, are you going to let your parents go to jail for protecting you? If you turn yourself in now, the police might overlook their involvement in hiding you!”
After speaking, he even sent the video to me.
But how could I, a mere soul, respond?
Angered by Denver’s callousness, my father, who already had a weak heart, collapsed on the floor. The house descended into chaos as someone frantically dialed 911.
After emergency treatment at the hospital, my father regained consciousness. Despite prolonged questioning, the police left without any leads.
Denver, however, punched the wall in frustration. “That poisonous woman Sheila must be in hiding because she’s afraid of going to jail!”
Storming out of the hospital room, he turned back to my parents and issued a cold threat. “Convince Sheila to surrender and apologize to Micah, or I’ll divorce her!”
Then, without waiting for a response, he left.
My mother broke down in tears, and choked out“Our Sheila was burned on her arm as a child and has been terrified of fire ever since. She couldn’t possibly have done this!”
“They’ve been married for three years. Doesn’t Denver know her well enough to see she wouldn’t do this?”
Bitterness swelled in my chest. Everyone, including my own husband, believed Micah’s accusations.
Only my parents stood by my innocence.
The next day, my parents returned home from the hospital, only to be confronted by a barrage of insults.
The door was pounded furiously.
“Zandro! Sunshine! Your daughter really committed arson, didn’t she?”
“If the police came for her, she must be guilty! People from the countryside are heartless!”
It was Patricia, our downstairs neighbor, shouting mockingly. She’d always compared her daughter to me but resented that her daughter fell short. Her bitterness drove her to constantly ridicule us for being from the countryside.
My mother, furious and frustrated, shouted back, “My daughter didn’t set any fire! Stop spewing nonsense!”
But Patricia raised her voice even louder, calling out to the entire neighborhood.
“Everyone, the Rodriguez family raised a murderer!”
