Chapter 3
The driver nodded. "Alright."
Lucas closed his eyes again and snorted quietly. "Lily's probably broke now."
I finally understood what he meant. There was this almost triumphant tone in his voice, like he was savoring a bit of payback.
The driver up front finally got it and played along, "So she and her brother just came here to put on an act for you, huh?"
Lucas slowly clenched the silver ring in his hand.
Maybe he kept that ring around just to remind himself of my betrayal all those years ago.
Even after three years, he really still hated me—his resentment hadn't faded at all.
I heard Lucas let out a cold laugh. "They're about to be disappointed."
The car pulled up in front of the villa, and Lucas got out and walked inside.
The living room was blazing with light. Ghosts like me couldn't step foot in a place that bright.
I was left standing outside.
It wasn't until nearly midnight that I finally broke free from the invisible chains holding my soul and managed to leave.
I went everywhere, frantically searching for Ryan.
It wasn't until I checked the tiny rental I used to call home when I was alive that I finally found him.
Three years had gone by, and my lease was up ages ago.
The place had seen a bunch of tenants come and go, but now it was finally vacant again.
The landlord must've felt sorry for Ryan and let him crash there for a bit.
Ryan didn't bother turning on the lights. He just used the moonlight, digging through every nook and cranny, hoping to find something.
He'd come back here over and over.
He'd already taken everything I left behind, hoping to hold onto a piece of me, but now there was nothing left.
But he still couldn't let it go, searching every corner, hoping to find just one last thing of mine.
He wanted to know what happened to me—about my sickness, about how I spent my last days.
And why I ended up sharing a grave with some random guy.
No one could give him an answer—only whatever I left behind might have held a clue.
But there was nothing left here. Not a single thing.
I sat on the floor, keeping him company as he searched.
As the night dragged on, my soul just couldn't take it anymore—sleepiness washed over me, and I started to fade away.
Half-asleep, I had no idea how much time had passed until I suddenly caught the sound of his soft, stifled sobs.
I jolted awake from my haze.
In the dim light, I saw Ryan sitting next to the wardrobe he'd somehow managed to pull out.
He was so thin now, practically just skin and bones, and he didn't have much strength left in him.
I couldn't figure out how he'd managed to move something that big.
He was clutching a half-page of paper, so old and yellowed it looked like it could fall apart any second—he must have found it under the wardrobe.
I saw his tears fall, landing right on the paper.
He wiped them away in a panic, as if the paper would fall apart if he wasn't careful.
I leaned in, squinting for a long time before I finally saw what it was.
It was the burial plot co-ownership agreement I'd signed with that friend from the hospital three years ago.
I never imagined that, after three whole years, Ryan would actually find it.
Honestly, it was pretty humiliating.
When I was alive, I was always pinching pennies, just scraping by.
To save a few hundred dollars on rent, I even kept it from Ryan and Lucas, trying to split a cheap apartment with someone else.
And right before I died, I went and split a burial plot with a stranger, just to save half the price.
I couldn't even look up.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ryan, breathing heavily, his hands shaking as he pulled out his phone.
He found Lucas's number in his contacts.
He'd finally decided that he was about to call Lucas and tell him that the body in the grave belonged to me.
My heart shot straight up to my throat, and I instinctively lunged forward, desperate to stop him.
I wasn't sure if I just didn't want Lucas to find out I was gone.
Or maybe I just couldn't stand the thought of him seeing how far I'd fallen.
But my hand just passed right through Ryan's body—I couldn't stop him at all.
Frantic and desperate, I tried to throw myself at him to stop him again.
But the emotional turmoil was more than my soul could take.
As I lunged once more, the world went dark and I lost consciousness.
My mind slipped back to years ago.
The first time I met Lucas was when I was eighteen, a freshman in college.
It was after school one evening, and he was cornered by a bunch of middle-aged guys in black, each swinging a baseball bat.
His dad had skipped town after racking up a ton of debt, so now the debt collectors were after Lucas instead.
I didn't dare show my face or stick my nose in.
All I could do was quietly call the cops from the shadows.
By the time the cops showed up, Lucas had already taken a beating—his lip was split and blood was trickling down his chin.
The cops dragged the thugs away and wanted to take Lucas to the hospital.
I stayed hidden in the shadows, waiting for them to leave.
But Lucas just muttered, "I'm fine," his voice cold and distant, and walked off alone.
Seeing that he was fine, the officers let out a collective sigh of relief.
I watched the police car drive away, my eyes following the boy's retreating figure.
But he hadn't gone far when he suddenly collapsed on the street.
I rushed over.
He struggled to open his eyes and looked at me, his voice slurred and cold.
"Don't call the cops. Just leave me alone," he muttered.
Gritting my teeth, I pulled out the last few dollars in my pocket and grabbed a cab, bringing him back to my place.
Ryan was a doctor.
He was the one who took care of me, even as we drifted through the streets for years.
Ever since we were little, he always told me not to get involved in other people's business.
But that night, I steeled myself and brought Lucas inside.
Ryan's face was dark with displeasure, but he still treated Lucas's injuries and let him stay the night.
Ryan and I woke up the next morning to find Lucas already gone.
He'd left 70 dollars sitting on the coffee table.
After that, we'd bump into each other at school every now and then.
Lucas never even acknowledged me—maybe he really forgot, or maybe he just acted like he'd never met me.
I figured that night wasn't exactly his proudest moment.
So I just acted like nothing ever happened, kept living my life, and treated him like a stranger.
It wasn't until my senior year, right before graduation, that things changed.
Our club organized one last event: a hiking trip.
On the way down, I twisted my ankle and couldn't move.
The guys had already rushed ahead and were nowhere to be seen.
A few girls gathered around me, trying to figure out how to help me down the mountain.
Behind me, a chilly, familiar voice suddenly spoke, sounding a bit awkward. "Want some help?"
I turned around and saw Lucas standing there alone, still behind me.