I make my final phone call to my boyfriend when a murderer is hunting me down. He thinks I'm messing with him and hangs up on me. That destroys the final sliver of hope I have for survival.

He's celebrating his childhood friend's birthday when I'm being murdered.

Later, as a restorative embalmer, he receives a body to restore. He loses his mind when he restores my shattered skull and realizes the body is mine.

My body was discovered three days after my death by a janitor. All of my limbs were there, but my head was missing.

Gavin Hart was assigned to restore my corpse. It was no easy task. I had been brutally dismembered. The fragments were scattered like a macabre puzzle, and the reconstruction process required painstaking precision to fit each part back into its proper place.

He exhaled sharply. "This woman died a terrible death. I've never seen a corpse this mutilated before."

His assistant, Steven Brown, carefully piecing my abdomen together, sighed. "She was pregnant. The baby was already formed. Two lives lost… What a tragedy."

I hovered in the air and silently watched Gavin's back. He didn't recognize me. Seven years of love, countless nights spent in each other's arms, yet he couldn't even recognize my body. I wondered what expression he would make when he finally found my head and realized who I was.

Gavin turned over what was left of my back, stitching up the deep, crisscrossing wounds. A sharp pain twisted through me.

That rainy night came rushing back.

The murderer had chased me down, hacking at my back with a machete.

Blood ran down my body, mixed with the rain, and vanished into the darkness. My last desperate call had been to Gavin. But all I got in return was his cold voice.

"Stop making a scene, okay? Who are you trying to fool? I'm not giving in this time. If you apologize to Chloe, I'll end the silent treatment."

Then the line went dead.

The beeping of the disconnected call became my final requiem.

Behind me, a chilling voice whispered, "Caught you."

I screamed and begged for help. But the only response was cold steel plunging into my throat.

As the darkness swallowed me, Gavin's face was the last thing in my mind.

"Gavin, it hurts so much."

…

Night fell.

Gavin stayed late at work, painstakingly stitching me back into something resembling human form. By the time he clocked out, it had started drizzling. He had no umbrella, so he stood beneath the eaves and waited for the rain to stop.

Steven hesitated before asking, "Is Ms. Walker not picking you up today?"

For years, I had been the one waiting for him after work. But now, three days had passed, and I hadn't shown up. Steven's curiosity got the better of him.

Gavin lowered his gaze and watched the raindrops splatter onto the pavement. His voice was calm. "Hmm… We had a big fight, so things are tense now."

Realizing he had overstepped, Steven quickly offered, "Mr. Hart, should I call a cab for you? This rain doesn't look like it'll stop anytime soon."

Gavin shook his head. "I'll wait a little longer."

He was still waiting for me to show up, waiting for me to give in and end the silent treatment.

But I would never appear before him again.

The rain poured harder. A pair of headlights cut through the downpour.

Gavin looked up, a flicker of hope flashing in his eyes.

Then, in the next second, his faint smile froze.

Because it wasn't me.

Chloe Wright stepped out of the car, limping slightly, an umbrella in hand. Her voice was bright, almost cheerful.

"Gavin, I came to pick you up! I heard Sandra hasn't come to pick you up for three days, so I guess this job falls to me."

Chloe's smile was bright and sweet, but her words subtly edged me out.

Gavin's gloom vanished instantly. He reached out and ruffled Chloe's hair. "Alright, then. From now on, I'll have you pick me up."

Gavin brought Chloe back to the home that used to belong to the two of us. The moment she stepped inside, she noticed the traces of my absence.

Chloe asked, her voice cautious, "Gavin, is Sandra still mad?"

She could guess why I had left.

"Yeah. She went back to one of her places."

Besides the home Gavin and I shared, I owned several other properties. Whenever we argued, I would choose one at random and stay there.

Chloe bit her lip, looking guilty. "This is all my fault," she murmured. "I was too selfish… That night, I was really vulnerable. I just needed you so much…"

"I understand why Sandra is upset," she added softly. "I just hope you two won't keep fighting because of me."

Gavin chuckled indulgently. "This isn't your fault. Sandra is just being unreasonable. Don't worry. This time, unless she apologizes to you, I won't forgive her."

Chloe pressed her lips together to suppress a smile, then sniffled as if she were holding back tears. "It's my fault… I'll go make you something to eat."

She hurried to the kitchen while Gavin sank onto the couch, staring blankly ahead. After a long silence, he muttered under his breath, "Sandra, enough is enough."

I hovered in the air. My chest tightened with pain. Even now, he still thought I was just being difficult.

…

It was our seventh anniversary a week ago. To mark the occasion, I prepared two surprises for Gavin—my ultrasound and our marriage paperwork.

After seven years together, it was time for us to get married. But instead of a candlelit dinner and a romantic evening, all I got was a silent treatment.

As we sat at the dinner table that night, Chloe's call came in. She sobbed over the phone, "Gavin, my leg is truly useless… I fell again and spilled hot water on my arm. It hurts so much. Gavin, can you please be with me? I feel awful…"

To everyone else, Chloe was always bright and cheerful. But with Gavin, she allowed herself to be weak, to cry.

Hearing her plea, Gavin immediately grabbed his coat. I grabbed his wrist and spoke coldly, "Gavin, are you seriously leaving me for Chloe again?"

He coaxed me gently. "Come on, don't make a fuss. Chloe needs me."

My throat tightened, but I forced back my tears. "What about me? Don't I need you?"

Seven years together, and I had to be the one to bring up marriage—only because I was pregnant. Did I mean so little to him?

I was desperate. "How many times has she pulled this stunt? Can't you see? She's doing this on purpose! My birthday, your birthday, Valentine's Day, our anniversaries—every single time we celebrate something, she suddenly 'hurts her leg' and calls you away. Are you blind? Can't you see what she's doing? Why do you keep letting her humiliate me?"

Gavin stood frozen for a moment. Then, his shock twisted into disgust.

"Sandra, how did your heart become so twisted? Chloe is like a little sister to me. How could you even suspect something like that? And don't forget—her leg is ruined because of you. You owe her."

I broke down. "It wasn't me! It wasn't my fault she's crippled!"

"Enough." He held his forehead, exasperated. "I don't want to hear another word about this." Then, he pushed open the door.

I called after him. My voice shook. "Gavin! If you walk out that door for Chloe again, we're done."

The only answer was the sound of the door slamming shut.

My heart went completely cold. I packed my things and moved into another apartment.

Gavin never acknowledged the breakup, but he never came to take me home, either. Stubborn as we both were, we sank into an unspoken war of silence.

Chloe stayed over at my place that night and invited Gavin to watch a romantic movie. On-screen, the lead couple embraced passionately, their love filling the room with an air of intimacy.

Chloe's eyes sparkled with anticipation. She turned to look at Gavin, waiting—hoping—for something—anything.

But Gavin wasn't watching the movie. He was staring at his phone, his fingers gently tracing my profile picture.

Chloe's expression darkened instantly. She forced a smile, about to say something, but Gavin spoke before she could.

He rubbed his temples, his voice lacing with exhaustion. "Chloe, I'm heading to bed. You can finish the movie alone. Let me know if you need anything."

Chloe clenched her fists but kept her tone light. "Alright, Gavin. Rest well."

As soon as he shut the bedroom door, her mask cracked. She grabbed a stuffed animal from the couch, her fingers tightening around its neck.

"Die! Sandra, you should just die!"

She dug her nails into the fabric, strangling it before delivering a few vicious punches. Only then did her rage subside.

And then, suddenly, she started laughing. "It's fine. Gavin will be mine. Completely mine."

I wished Gavin could see her now. The "little sister" he cherished so much—she had never seen him as family.

And now that I was gone, he could finally be with her. Wasn't that what he wanted all along?

…

Day four of our silent treatment was day two of my body's reconstruction.

My remains were slowly taking shape. All that was left was to restore the deep, bone-deep wounds.

Steven inhaled sharply. "182 knife wounds… She was tortured to death."

Gavin's voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "Has anyone come forward to claim the body? It's been four days. No missing person reports?"

"Nope. Maybe she was homeless."

I let out a bitter laugh. Of course, Gavin hadn't checked in on me. He thought we were still locked in a standoff, both too stubborn to reach out. The idea that I was missing had never even crossed his mind.

Gavin picked up my foot, tilting it toward Steven. "See this shape? Only ballet dancers have this kind of deformity. Her skin is smooth, pale—she was well-off. My guess? She was a dancer."

Then his hand froze. His gaze locked onto my ankle.

Something caught his eye. A pause. Then, a sharp breath.

"Steel pins," he murmured.

There were two small metal pins inside my ankle. It was the result of a surgery I'd had after a fracture last year. It was something no one else could have.

Something uniquely mine. And at last, Gavin realized.

"Sandra?"

Finally, my name left his lips.