In the gloom of their cozy, dimly lit bedroom, Anna and Michael reveled in the comfort of their new life together. Nestled amid the chaos of moving boxes and the fresh scent of paint, they sought to capture the beginnings of their shared journey through the lens of their camera, one selfie at a time. Each snapshot was a testament to their happiness, a frozen moment of bliss amidst the whirlwind of a new marriage and a new home.

But as they scrolled through the photos, a shadow fell over their joy. In every image, behind their smiling faces, was the faint, unmistakable outline of a man. It was not just any man—it was Alex, Anna’s ex-boyfriend, his features blurred yet distinct, an eerie imprint on their happiness.

At first, Anna thought her mind was playing tricks on her, a byproduct of the stress from the move and the lingering guilt over how things had ended with Alex. But as they continued to take pictures, his image became clearer, more defined, as if he was slowly coming back into focus, into their world.

Confused and increasingly terrified, Anna decided to look up Alex, hoping for some explanation. The search brought her to a chilling halt: Alex had died in a car accident months ago, around the time she and Michael had started dating. The revelation sent a cold shiver down her spine, intertwining grief with an unspeakable fear.

One evening, as shadows danced along the walls of their bedroom, Anna mustered the courage to share the haunting discovery with Michael. They sat on the bed, the blue glow of Michael’s phone illuminating their worried faces as they discussed the possible meanings behind the spectral photobombs.

As the conversation grew more intense, a knock echoed through the silence of the house, sudden and jarring. Anna’s heart raced, her mind swirling with fear and confusion. With a hesitant step, she approached the door, Michael’s voice offering reassurance from behind her.

But when she opened the door, the world seemed to stop. Michael stood there, a look of concern etching his face. If Michael was at the door, then who—

Panic seized her as she whipped around, the question dying in her throat. There, on the bed, sat Alex, as real and as solid as the day she had last seen him, his eyes dark pits of sorrow and anger.

“How?” was all she could manage, her voice a trembling whisper in the heavy air.

Alex’s response was a cold smile, a harbinger of a truth too horrifying to comprehend. “You never really let me go, Anna,” he said, his voice a blend of the man she once knew and something else, something darker.

The realization hit Anna like a physical force. Alex’s presence wasn’t just a haunting; it was a manifestation of her guilt, her unresolved feelings, and the part of her that couldn’t move on. But as the boundaries between the living and the dead blurred, it became clear that Alex didn’t just want recognition—he wanted her life to be as frozen in time as his was.