A.K was once the most sought-after ghostwriter in the industry — the invisible hand behind bestselling authors and viral stories.
Until one scandal ruined everything. Her name became a curse, her career shattered, and her words, her only escape, betrayed her.

Then one night, an email arrives.
The sender’s name makes her heart stop.
Because the man who sent it… died three years ago.

He knows her secrets.
The kind she buried beneath grief, guilt, and silence.
The kind no one alive should ever know, including the truth about a friend’s mysterious death she’s long tried to forget.

Now he wants her to tell his story.
Each chapter she writes pulls her deeper into his world, a world that blurs the lines between reality and insanity.
Voices whisper through her drafts, shadows linger where light should be, and the haunting question remains:

Is she writing his story… or rewriting her own?

The story was never his alone.
Even dead men write too… they just need the right writer to bleed for them.

I woke up to the sound of typing again.Except this time, the laptop was closed.


The sound was still there, the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of invisible fingers against unseen keys. My body froze before my mind caught up. I reached for the desk light, and the moment the bulb flickered on, the typing stopped.


The screen lit itself. No password. No hesitation. Just open, waiting for me.


There was a new document titled "CHAPTER 29 — THE MANUSCRIPT KNOWS."I hadn't written it. But my name sat neatly in the corner of the file, as if I had.


"She thinks she can hide behind memory, but memory belongs to me now."


I scrolled down.Each paragraph was written in my voice, my rhythm, my syntax, but they weren't my thoughts. They were confessions. Sentences describing moments I had never spoken aloud: the plagiarism, the lies to the police, the way I left Jules in the fire because I couldn't pull her free.


There were even details I had forgotten, or wanted to.Things no one should have known.


She lied because truth would ruin her.She stayed because guilt was easier than forgiveness.She watched him die and said nothing.


I tried deleting the file, but the words wouldn't vanish. The backspace key made no difference. The more I pressed, the more letters appeared, rewriting themselves as if mocking me.


"You can't erase what you've already written."


It was Kane's voice in my head. I could feel his breath at the back of my neck, the faint vibration of laughter that wasn't human anymore.


The manuscript wasn't waiting for me to write. It was writing me.


By morning, new chapters had appeared, titles that made no sense yet:"The Night She Lied.""The Witness Who Forgot.""The Truth She Buried."


All dated in advance.All waiting for me to live them.


That's when I understood:The manuscript didn't need my hands anymore.It already knew the ending.


Chapter 29 - THE MANUSCRIPT KNOWS