Reborn to Rewrite My Ending

Rain fell in relentless sheets, soaking the earth and painting the sky in shades of gray. Thunder rumbled overhead, as if the heavens themselves mourned with him.

The man continued to clung on my lifeless body, soaked to the bone, his trembling form hunched protectively over the crude wooden coffin. His sobs cut through the storm, raw and aching.

A voice broke through the downpour.

“M-Master Ezra?!”

A voice broke through the sound of the storm. A young man in a suit, soaked from the downpour, stumbled toward him, struggling to hold an umbrella against the wind. “W-What are you doing out here? You just got out of the hospital! It’s raining—you’ll get sick again!”

Ezra said nothing. He didn’t even glance at his assistant.

Instead, he just held my body tighter.

Floating above them, I watched the scene unfold in stunned silence. Me. My body. That man.

My ghostly form hovered, unsure, as I took in the sight of the man who mourned me.

“Ezra...?” I whispered to myself. The name tickled something in the back of my mind. “Wait... I think I knew someone named Ezra. But he wasn’t like this. He was… awkward. Quiet. And definitely not this... handsome.”

The man below looked nothing like the Ezra I remembered. This Ezra was tall, broad-shouldered, with eyes like a gathering storm and a jaw clenched in anguish. His expression was so intense, so filled with pain, it made something in my chest tighten.

Then he looked up.

His eyes locked on his assistant, and for the first time, I saw it: the raw, furious grief that twisted his features into something nearly monstrous.

“I will make them pay,” Ezra said, his voice low and cold. “I will make them suffer tenfold for what they did to her.”

Even as a ghost, I shivered.

My form flickered.

But somehow, even through the chill of his rage, I felt something warm. Something... protective.

He stood up slowly, cradling my body in his arms like I was something precious. He didn’t care about the mud, or the rain, or the crowd that might be watching. He only cared about me.

---

The golden coffin gleamed under the soft lights of the funeral parlor.

My body, now dressed in white and surrounded by white lilies, looked peaceful. Like I was sleeping. Like I was still just a girl with dreams and fears and a future.

Ezra stood nearby, silent. His suit was black, sharp, tailored. The only thing out of place was the shadow in his eyes.

I followed him, floating just behind, unable to look away. He had done this for me. No one else had. No one else cared.

---

I was following Ezra when he started talking to someone on the phone, but then I suddenly heard loud flashes coming from the direction we were heading.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

Camera bulbs popped like fireworks. Microphones pushed forward. Reporters clamored, voices loud and intrusive.

Then I saw Kierra sitting at the head of the press conference, dabbing at fake tears with a silk handkerchief. She wore a white dress, as if playing the role of innocent victim.

“Chloe always hated me,” she said, her voice trembling just enough to sound believable. “Ever since we were kids, she tried to control me. She... she even tried to kill me to get rid of the 'taint' that could ruin her perfect image.”

I hovered in the corner of the room, fists clenched. My ghostly form crackled faintly with static.

Liar.

Kierra sniffled delicately, her voice faltering as she spoke. “Every time I tried to start something on my own, Chloe was always there, trying to tear it down. I know I shouldn’t be thanking anyone after what happened to my sister, but I have to thank justice for giving us what we deserve. Thank you so much.” She paused, a brief, almost rehearsed moment before continuing. “I’d also like to thank the businesses that took me on as a sponsor and the films that cast me, even though... my sister was the murderer.” With that, she bowed deeply, a mockery of humility.

Beside her, Richard placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, his expression stoic. “I never imagined Chloe was capable of something like this. I trusted her, but Kierra opened my eyes to the truth. And on behalf of my ex-girlfriend... I want to apologize as well.”

I wanted to scream. The words burned in my throat, but I knew no one would hear me.

Fucking liars!

The fury surged through me, but there was nothing I could do. I longed to lash out, to make them feel even a fraction of the pain they’d caused me, but with this ghostly body, I was powerless.

The fans online flooded the livestream chat:

Poor Kierra. Stay strong.

Chloe was always jealous. It makes sense now.

Richard deserves better.

It was like watching them bury me all over again.

But then—

The doors slammed open.

Ezra walked in, flanked by two police officers. His presence alone silenced the room. Cold. Controlled. Powerful.

He moved straight to the podium, ignoring the shocked gasps and whispers. The officers placed thick folders onto the table. Evidence.

“This press conference is over,” Ezra said calmly. “The truth will now be presented.”

The officers didn’t hesitate. In less than a minute, Kierra and Richard were cuffed, their faces stunned, then horrified, as Ezra handed over evidence. Video files, forged documents, audio recordings, bank statements. Everything.

The truth hit like a nuclear bomb.

Every lie they told, every mask they wore—it all shattered in front of the world.

Ezra didn’t stop there. He made sure every sponsor, every company, every ally that had helped them destroy me got exposed. People who had spit on my grave? Public apologies, fines, blacklisting. The internet turned on them just as fast as it had turned on me.

I watch as he did all this without pause, without sleep—driven only by grief and vengeance. I floated beside him late one night as he returned home, shoulders heavy but unwavering. I reached out, slowly, gently, and wrapped my ghostly arms around him from behind.

“Thank you,” I whispered, voice shaking with emotions I could no longer cry out.

But just as I pulled away, a strange sensation washed over me.

Ezra froze.

Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his head—his eyes scanning the room before locking onto my eyes.

He's looking straight at me.

My breath hitched. No… that's impossible. Can he see me?

I floated backward instinctively, my translucent fingers trembling. His eyes didn’t waver.

Then, without warning, Ezra’s body swayed.

“Master Ezra!” His assistant shouted, rushing forward.

But it was too late.

Ezra collapsed on the floor.

The room exploded into chaos—but I hovered above him, stunned, terrified, and suddenly unsure.

What just happened?