Reina Aurwood had heard that the after-life was a cold place. She did not, however, think that she would be there to confirm it. As the glass windows shook because of the wind, and snow piled up outside at the courtyard, Reina stared at a mirror in a room that was thrice as big as the one she previously lived in. She had never seen herself in that dress : a long gown made of fur. Nor had she beheld such meticulously carved furniture, intricately embroidered curtains, and large mirrors. She could have hypothesized that she did not actually die, but was saved or kidnapped somehow, but the only people she could gather information from knocked at her door and served her delicious food regularly.

“You must rest, My Lady.,” they said.

“You are sick…”

Perhaps it was all a dream. Maybe the ceiling of her old house did not collapse; maybe she did not really have that huge fight with her brother before she died; maybe her breathing did not really stop under the huge rubble of books and dust…books that were written by her beloved brother but those she never got to read…

A pile of letters lay in front of her in the drawing room table, all moist and cold. They had just been brought in by one of the palace women, who seemed like she wanted to avoid her at all costs. Strangely those letters were all addressed to her.

“To Lady Aurwood of the Northern Province.” they read.

Reina Aurwood never knew that she was a Lady of the Northern Province.

“Dear Reigna,” one of them said.

“It has come to my attention that you will not be attending the ball at the Spring Resort due to your illness. Such a sad thing considering you were so excited for it. It would have been so much nice if we could have had at least a drink together, but alas!

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

I shall say hi to the Knight of the Grand Gorge for you.

Yours,

Veronica”

The eloquent handwriting, unnecessary perfume, and the subtle shade. Her head was actually forming an explanation. Maybe God had set her some administrative duties in the afterlife; she was known as a hard worker, after all, but unless God was a woman with unnecessarily refined taste, it was quite unlikely.

Moreover, it seemed like a real trial to keep her patience that the one writing to her was named “Veronica”. The Veronica she knew was an unscrupulous woman who had only troubled her till the day she died. She did not want to remember her at all.

Also, God would have known how to spell her name right.

She also did not want to be reminded of the time she had won fifty bucks in lottery only to later realize that she could not have the money because her dear brother, who had bought the ticket, had written her name wrong. Nonetheless, now that she was dead, she missed him, and wished they did not have that huge fight before they died.

“You never read anything I give you!,” he had told her.

“You never have time!”

“Actually you just don’t believe in me…”

Reina Aurwood could not help but sigh. True she never had much time in her past life. And she thought writing a novel to make money was a grand waste of time and talent. But honestly, she wished she did more. She wished she had spent more time with her brother. She wished she had at least read his novels. If she knew that she was going to die young anyway, she would have spent much more time having fun than pushing herself all day.

Which was why when the servant ladies came, and had her bathe in scented candles, adorned in warm fur like dress, she didn’t ask any questions, and just...relaxed.