Chapter 1

Ever since my ex-boyfriend "died," he had been showing up in my dreams.

"The weeds on my grave are completely overgrown. Do you have time to trim it?"

"There are stray dogs peeing in front of my grave. It's disgusting. Can you clean it up?"

In my dreams, I always agreed without hesitation.

So every time I woke up, I'd happily go take care of his grave—sweeping it clean, neat, and spotless.

I even planted a few bunches of yellow chrysanthemums, his favorite when he was alive.

Then I'd post it on Instagram like a proud little ritual check-in.

Until one day, at a restaurant, I ran into my supposedly dead ex-boyfriend.

He was alive, wearing a tailored suit, with a glamorous new girlfriend on his arm. He looked at me sideways, grinding his teeth.

"It's been a while. Even if I cheated on you back then, that doesn't mean you get to go around telling people I'm dead—and building me a grave."

I blinked. "So you were cheating on me? And you weren't actually dead?"

He froze.

I tilted my head. "Then who exactly have I been talking to in my dreams every night?"

*****

It was lunch break, and I was waiting for my food at the café downstairs at work.

I was hunched over my phone, typing away like crazy. [Day 998 since my ex-boyfriend passed.]

[Missing him so much. Specially ordered his favorite today—asparagus and pork stir-fry.]

When I looked up, Deacon locked eyes with me, his gaze intense and probing, like he was trying to read my mind.

My heart skipped a beat, and I nearly dropped my phone in shock.

I clutched my head, squeezed my eyes shut, and started frantically chanting. "It's fine. I'm just imagining things..."

Damn it.

Missing him was one thing.

But actually seeing his ghost? Hell no.

When I looked up again, Deacon was still there, but now there was something strange in his eyes as he stared at me.

Deacon leaned in, a subtle amusement flickering in his gaze as he looked straight at me. "Maddison, it's been a while."

I was an introvert.

I never really learned how to talk to people.

As for ghosts? No way.

Before I could figure out what to say, Deacon smirked, braced himself on the table, and leaned in so close his lips were practically brushing mine.

But his voice carried a trace of irritation. "Yeah, I cheated on you back then. Sorry about that. But did you really have to spread rumors that I was dead?

"You even went so far as to set up a grave for me and brag about it online."

My mind was a mess. I looked up at him, dazed, and kept backing away. "Wait, you're saying you're not dead?"

Deacon sat down across from me, looking even more aloof and aristocratic than he had three years ago.

He gave me a casual once-over, his eyes lingering on my outfit—all cheap finds from Pex Exchange, probably costing less than 70 dollars in total.

He sneered, "Maddison, looks like you're doing even worse without me."

He pulled a business card from his pocket and set it down on the greasy table.

He said, "If you ever need anything, just come find me. Think of it as me making up for what I did to you three years ago."

I took the card and glanced at it. [Deacon Russell, Northvale Group, Technical Director.]

So he really wasn't dead after all.

Three years out of college, and he was already a big shot at a major company.

So now he thought he could just mock me for not doing well?

I spent half a year busting my ass to land a civil service job.

Did he even get it? I had to battle my way through thousands of applicants just to secure it.

I opened my mouth, feeling a bit down, but my voice was clear and tinged with resentment. "I'm not as pathetic as you think. All my money ended up spent on you—well, on your grave, actually."

If I hadn't been checking in at his grave every other day and posting about it, my paycheck wouldn't have disappeared so fast.

I wouldn't have turned into a total Pex Exchange bargain hunter.

Deacon let out a soft sigh, and as he stood up, he reached over and ruffled my hair, same as three years ago.

Goosebumps prickled all over my skin.

I said, "Maddison, don't be so hung up on me. It's been so long. You really should let go. I'm getting married soon."

I stared at him, eyes wide in disbelief.

He said he was getting married.

But the way he said it, it almost sounded like he still cared about me.

Just then, a woman dressed to the nines in high heels strode over, her steps elegant and poised. With practiced intimacy, she slipped her arm through his, clinging to him like they belonged together.

She glanced down at me, her eyes unreadable.

"Hey, Maddison, long time no see," she said.

"Uh... hi," I replied.

Then it hit me that this was Flora Lawrence, a junior from the art department.

Thinking about what Deacon just said about cheating, it finally clicked.

Looked like Flora was the side chick back then.

Flora sized me up, her tone dripping with the same contempt as Deacon's.

She said, "Looks like you've been struggling these past few years, Maddison. I warned you back then. Stop causing drama everywhere you go."