Excuse Me, Why Am I Dead?

“Proof.”

That was the first word out of my mouth the next morning in Heaven.

(Yes, apparently souls can sleep. Don’t ask me how. I just closed my eyes on a fluffy cloud, and boom—nap complete. Honestly, Heaven feels less like a holy place and more like a 5-star hotel with unlimited cotton beds.)

Ezra was already waiting, standing tall like a security guard of some VIP office. His silver eyes narrowed at me. “Proof of what?”

“Proof of my death,” I declared, folding my arms. “Show me CCTV footage, death certificate, or whatever receipts you keep in that big golden book of yours. Because until I see with my own eyes, I’m not accepting your ‘game over’ story.”

A few angels standing nearby covered their mouths, trying not to laugh. One of them whispered, “Here we go again.”

Ezra’s jaw tightened. “This is Heaven, not a government office.”

“Exactly!” I shot back. “Which means service should be even better. On Earth, at least they give photocopies. Here, you’re telling me to just believe one line? No, ji. Sorry. I want proof.”

Ezra sighed so loudly the clouds around us almost moved. “You died. Car accident. 9:47 p.m. Internal bleeding. That’s the truth.”

“Arrey, time toh bata diya,” I said, rolling my eyes. “But kya guarantee it was me? Maybe another Jaspreet? Or maybe Selene died instead. Ever thought of that?”

The moment her name slipped out, Ezra’s hand paused on his book. His expression didn’t change, but I caught the flicker. My stomach twisted. Selene.

That shadow who never left my marriage. His first love. My permanent rival.

(Flashback)

The wedding week passed in a blur of rituals and noise, but the first week of marriage stays sharp in my mind. Like a wound that never healed.

We had moved into his London house, a place big enough for five families but cold like an empty hospital.

Kian barely spoke. He slept facing the other side of the bed, his back turned to me like I was just furniture. At meals, he ate silently, his eyes glued to his laptop or phone. If I asked something, he answered with one word. Yes. No. Fine. Good. That was it.

I tried everything. I cooked his favorite food after secretly asking his mother. I told silly jokes while setting the table. I even wore the dresses my cousins had teased me about, hoping he’d at least look once. Nothing worked.

One night, I gathered courage. He was typing something on his laptop, blue light reflecting on his face. My heart pounded but I still asked, “Kian… do you not like this marriage?”

He froze for a second, then looked at me with those distant eyes. “You’re a good girl, Jaspreet. Don’t make it complicated.”

That line sliced through me. Good girl? What was I, his employee? His maid? Not his wife?

I turned away that night, hiding my tears in the pillow. My heart whispered to me, One day, he’ll see you. One day.

But that day never came. Because Selene returned.

(Back in Heaven)

“Hello?” I waved my hand in front of Ezra’s face. “You froze. Thinking about my husband’s ex kya?”

Ezra snapped the book shut. “You ask too many questions.”

“Exactly.” I smirked. “And I’ll keep asking until you admit I’m right. So, Mr. Lord Ezra, bring out the proof. Because until then…” I placed my hand on my chest dramatically, “Jaspreet is alive.”

The angels burst into giggles again. Honestly, I think they enjoyed my daily fights more than any heavenly music.

Ezra muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like, “Why was I assigned this soul?”

I pretended not to hear. Instead, I leaned forward like a detective. “Tell me honestly, Ezra ji… did you maybe mix up the files? Like, instead of deleting spam mail, you deleted me? It happens. Technology issues. Heaven should really upgrade to cloud storage.”

One angel actually choked trying not to laugh.

Ezra finally snapped. “Enough. You are dead. Accept it.”

But my stubborn heart didn’t accept it. How could I? My story on Earth hadn’t even started. My marriage was still half a promise, half a prison. I had dreams, fights, hopes—all unfinished.

I wasn’t ready to close my book.

“Listen, Ezra,” I said softly this time, “maybe you have records. Maybe your book says I’m gone. But I still feel alive. I still feel my heart beating… for him.”

Ezra looked at me for a long moment, something unreadable in his silver eyes. Then he turned away. “Stubborn soul,” he muttered, walking off.

I grinned to myself. “Exactly. Stubborn, silly, loud… and not leaving until I get justice.”

The angels clapped quietly like I’d just won round two of our daily war.

And me? I stood there proudly, knowing one thing for sure—if Heaven thought I’d stay silent, they clearly didn’t know Jaspreet.

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