Belle watched, her spectral form hovering acorss the bed from her husband, her corpse between them, as he stared at her lifeless body, lost in a distant world of memories and grief. Her presence was an unexpected interruption to his silent contemplation, and she felt his surprise wash over her as he turned his gaze toward her. His mouth fell open in shock, and Belle was acutely aware of his emotional turmoil.

She paused for a moment, holding back from touching him. It was evident that he wasn't seeing her; his gaze was not fixed on her, but rather on a thousand miles and nearly a year away in the past, a place she couldn't reach. No doubt reliving those moments that had shattered their lives and brought them to this eerie juncture.

"Victor?" she whispered, the sound soft and gentle, an attempt to bring him back to the present. But it was as though her words couldn't penetrate the depths of his memories. His pain was palpable, even without her sense of corporeal touch.

Feeling a sense of desperation to connect with him, Belle circled the bed, her ghostly form moving with the ease of habit around the obstacles in the room rather than through them. She approached him from the other side, her insubstantial hand tentatively reaching out to touch his upper arm.

"Victor, can you hear me?" she asked again, her voice a soothing murmur. She longed for him to recognize her presence, to understand that she was here, that they were sharing this inexplicable and surreal experience together. She needed to bring him back from the abyss of his memories, back to this ghostly present.