Chapter 2

Later, I couldn't remember how much strength it took me to pull my phone out from deep inside my sleeve.

The phone rang for what felt like forever before Gerald finally picked up.

He said, "Shelly, don't you know today is Sylvia's surgery day? You wouldn't donate part of your liver to her. What kind of fuss do you wanna make now?"

Gerald sounded like he was about to explode with rage.

My throat tightened, and for a long moment, I couldn't get a word out. When I finally did, my voice was so hoarse that it was barely recognizable.

"Gerald, was it you who brought me to the hospital?" I asked.

Gerald paused for a second, and then snapped impatiently, "What hospital? If you've got nothing important, don't bother me. Sylvia's about to go into surgery, and we don't need you anymore."

With that, Gerald hung up on me.

That was the last straw.

I lay powerless on the operating table, my body growing weaker and weaker.

Even as my mind slipped into darkness, I couldn't help but think of Gerald.

The man I'd loved for five years, my husband, told me not to bother him in the last moments of my life, not to get in the way while he took care of the woman he'd loved for years.

And the most absurd part? It was Gerald himself who caused my death.

When I opened my eyes again, I realized my soul was left right next to Gerald.

*****

Half a month later, Sylvia was discharged from the hospital.

Gerald brought her straight home so he could take care of her himself.

But the moment they walked in, they were both stunned by what they saw.

There was a mess everywhere—broken dishes, rotten food scattered across the floor, and chairs toppled over.

Sylvia covered her mouth, pretending to be shocked.

She said, "Oh, no, Gerald. How did the house end up like this? Did Shelly do it on purpose because she was upset you were taking care of me?"

Gerald's expression turned stormy, and he immediately called someone to come clean up the mess.

He cared about his reputation a lot and had a serious cleanliness obsession. Seeing his home trashed like this made him absolutely livid.

The cleaning crew worked fast, and in no time, the place was spotless again.

But as one of the cleaners was leaving, she muttered under her breath, "This place is such a mess. It's like someone got dragged out of here all of a sudden."

I couldn't help but sigh. She was damn right.

Once the place was spotless again, Gerald finally looked a little less pissed off. He gave Sylvia a tour of the house, showing her around.

As Sylvia looked around the beautifully decorated rooms, a flash of jealousy and regret crossed her face.

If only she'd said yes to Gerald back then, she'd be the one living the high life as his rich wife right now.

But it wasn't too late yet. Gerald still cared about her.

When Sylvia thought about all this, her smile for Gerald grew even brighter.

But when she spotted the coffee cups I'd arranged on the bedroom cabinet, her expression turned cold for a moment. Pretending to be interested, she moved closer to my cabinet.

I noticed what she was up to and had a bad feeling.

Sure enough, my favorite coffee cup was knocked off the cabinet, crashing to the floor.

Gerald heard the crash and instinctively rushed over to check if Sylvia was hurt.

He didn't even bother to look at the shattered cup scattered across the floor.

"I'm so sorry, Gerald. I didn't mean to. Are these Shelly's favorite cups? She won't be mad at me, will she?" Sylvia's lips quivered, her gorgeous eyes filling with tears.

Gerald affectionately ran his fingers through her hair, speaking lightly as if it was nothing. "It's just a coffee cup. I only care if you're okay. Besides, it's not like Shelly would dare be upset about it."

Watching Gerald dote on her like that, Sylvia smirked inwardly, feeling a surge of smug satisfaction.

Floating above them, I watched their exchange, my fists clenched in frustration.

I held onto those cups on the cabinet so dearly, not because they were anything fancy, but simply because they were a gift from Gerald.

We'd been married for five years, and he barely even cared when picking out my wedding ring. But in our third year, he actually gave me these beautiful coffee cups, and I treated them like priceless treasures.

I thought maybe my devotion had finally reached him.

But in the end, my miserable death proved it was all just my misunderstanding.