What They Never Told Me

After the plane crash, my body was never recovered.

My soul drifted back to the home I hadn't stepped foot in for five years.

They didn't know I was dead. They were still waiting for me to come home for Christmas.

When my mom got the call from the airline, she froze for a long time, completely at a loss, before breaking down in tears.

I followed them as they went to the memorial crash site. That was when I noticed something strange—I could see their levels of regret hovering above their heads.

My brother's regret level read: 40%.

My father's showed: 60%.

Even my sister-in-law had 30% over her head.

But my mother's regret level?

It flashed a cold, unchanging 0%.

In those last moments before the plane went down, I wasn't freaking out or anything. Nope, it was all about regret.

Five years of silence between me and my parents, and today was supposed to fix that. But nope, the universe didn't approve. So, yeah, on Christmas Eve, my life just... stopped.

Next thing I knew, my soul was drifting all over the place before finally landing at the front door of the house I hadn't seen in five years.

The door was decked out with a Christmas wreath, and the windows had those cheesy snowflake decals.

I reached out to push the door open, but—plot twist—my hand went right through it. Right. Because I was dead.

That plane crash? Yeah, none of us made it. All 140 passengers. Gone.

I floated inside, slowly. The house was full of Christmas cheer, with string lights all over the walls.

Inside, my parents and Peggy Twain—aka my sister-in-law—were baking cookies. My younger brother, Chad Saun, was at the far end, glued to his phone and totally zoned into some video game. Meanwhile, my nephew, Asher, was running laps in new clothes, happily crashing his toy train into everything.

The vibe? Full-on Christmas cheer.

My mom, after finishing molding the last tray of cookie dough, glanced at the clock on the wall. Her face tightened, and she turned to Chad, who was still in gamer mode.

"It's already late. Why isn't Natalie home yet? She said three or four, and now it's almost seven. Call her and see where she is," she said.

Chad didn't even look up. "I'm in the middle of a game. Maybe the flight's delayed. Just wait. She said she'd come, right? She's not gonna bail."

Mom shot him a glare. "Five years ago, I used all of Natalie's savings to help you buy a house and get married. She's been mad at me ever since and hasn't been back home once.

"This year, I begged her to come for Christmas, and she finally agreed. When she gets here, you'd better step up and bond with her. Whether or not you get a car this year is riding on Natalie."

Her words hit like a slap.

I stumbled back, staring at her. Seriously?

That tearful phone call where she said she missed me, how hard life had been for me, how much she wanted me home for Christmas? Yeah, turns out it was all BS.

And I fell for it. Rearranged my schedule, swapped shifts, worked extra to cover for it, and forked over a ridiculous amount for that flight. All so I could hop on what ended up being the death flight.

If she hadn't kept pushing, I never would've gotten on that plane.

"Mom, who cares about the car?" Peggy cut in. "It's Christmas—don't bring this up now. If you tick Natalie off, she might not come back for years.

"Besides, Asher's starting school in a couple years. We'll probably need to sell this house and get one in a better district. When that happens, we'll need Natalie's help again."

She adjusted her sleeves, flashing a gold bracelet on her wrist.

I froze.

That bracelet. I bought it for my mom with my first paycheck. Five years ago, I asked her why she wasn't wearing it, and she told me she didn't like jewelry.

Now I knew the truth. She gave it to Peggy.

I let out a sharp, bitter laugh.

Peggy's ambitions were crystal clear. My savings were drained for their wedding, and now, with her kid starting school, she had her sights set on me again.

What a family of leeches. Absolutely disgusting.

I shook my head, too sickened to stay. But when I tried to leave, I couldn't.

Frustrated, I turned back toward them, forced to watch.

Then Chad suddenly sat up, clutching his phone.

"Was Natalie's flight QM8025?" he asked, his voice shaky.

Mom frowned. "I think so. Why? Is she not coming home after all?"

Chad shot to his feet, his face drained of color. "That plane crashed."