Chapter 3

Jenna collapsed on the floor, her fingers barely moving, like she was trying to get up but just couldn't.

My heart felt like someone was stabbing it with a knife, but I couldn't shed a single tear.

Inside the car, Jonathan leaned against the window, his face cold and distant.

But I noticed his fingers were trembling just a little.

I wanted to know what was going through his mind. Did he regret it, or did he still feel like it wasn't enough to ease his anger?

I had no idea.

All I knew was that even after I died, the pain didn't lessen at all.

Looking at his icy, stern face, I found myself whispering, "Jonathan, how much longer are you going to keep hating me?"

News of my death spread fast through my social media and class group chats.

Mark Woods, my college advisor, messaged Jonathan, saying he'd found some of my old stuff while cleaning out his office.

There were notebooks, pens, a few photos, and some random little trinkets.

He asked if Jonathan wanted to come pick them up, maybe keep them as a memento.

Jonathan stared at his phone screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, hesitating to reply.

I drifted beside him, thinking he'd turn it down without a second thought.

After all, in his eyes, I wasn't even worth keeping my ashes, and he wouldn't care about these random things.

But to my surprise, after a moment of silence, he finally replied with a single word, "Okay."

On the weekend, he drove to our old university.

The campus looked just like it always had, stone paths shaded by sycamore trees, students hurrying past the library. It was like time had hit pause.

Jonathan walked toward the administration building, his face expressionless.

But his steps were slower than usual, and he kept glancing around, like he was looking for something, or maybe someone.

When Mark saw him, he let out a sigh and handed over a small cardboard box.

"These are all Melody's old things. She... always cherished them," Mark said.

Jonathan didn't say anything. He just looked down and started rummaging through the box.

Inside were a few notebooks with his initials scribbled on the cover page, a couple of photos, and some odds and ends.

Mark began, "Melody really liked you, ever since college. She was in love with you for a long time.

"When I heard you two got married, I was genuinely happy for her. I thought her wish finally came true... But life has its own plans."

As Mark spoke, Jonathan's fingers tightened, creasing the corner of a photo.

For a moment, a flash of pain flickered in his eyes, as if something had suddenly pierced him.

But in the end, he just gave a cold "mm," grabbed the box, and walked out.

I thought he'd just walk away from school, but he didn't.

Instead, he headed to the lake, where I finally got up the nerve to tell him I liked him.

That night, I stumbled and stuttered forever, and he just kept quiet. I was sure I'd messed everything up.

But then, out of nowhere, he broke into a smile. "Why are you so silly? If you like me, say it."

Now, he stood by the lake, staring at the calm water, not sure what was on his mind.

We used to walk hand in hand around the track, lap after lap.

He always liked gripping my wrist, smiling at me, unguarded.

I wondered if he was really happy back then.

Or was he just pretending from the very start?

I kept my gaze lowered, following him like a ghost as he walked slowly, ending up at the cafeteria we used to go to all the time.

He ordered his favorite pasta, but after just a couple of bites, his movements froze.

He kept his head down, his fingers trembling as he gripped the fork.

His throat tightened, like he was choking on something.

I floated across from him, giving a bitter, self-deprecating chuckle.

"So, thinking about Emily, huh? Wouldn't it be better if she were the one sitting here with you?" I said.

Suddenly, his tears started streaming down, and he couldn't stop himself from choking up.

He shot to his feet, grabbed the box, and rushed out.

His steps picked up speed, nearly sprinting back to his car.

After shutting the car door, he took a deep breath, pressed his forehead against the steering wheel, and his shoulders trembled.

I froze.

He was crying. I wondered if he would really be crying for me.

But the next second, I couldn't help but let out a bitter chuckle.

I didn't think he would be crying for me.

He hated me so much that he wouldn't even keep my ashes, so he would never get upset over missing me.

Most likely, he just got caught up in memories, thinking about all those moments with Emily.

After all, he never loved me.

Ever since Jonathan came back from university that day, I noticed he started acting strangely, and it only got worse.

I was already dead. I thought he should be happy now.

After all, he hated me for so many years, finally got his revenge, and even tossed my ashes away without a second thought.