My soul drifted involuntarily to the dissecting room.

Stephen, wearing a white coat and a strong cold light on his head, solemnly bowed to my body in front of the stainless steel dissecting table.

Then, he pieced my broken body together, bit by bit.

This was the first time I had entered the dissecting room and seen him at work.

Focused, serious, and sacred.

And I, on his dissecting table, about to be dissected.

He carefully placed the completely unrecognizable head on the just assembled body, as gently as he had tucked my broken hair behind my ear years ago.

He checked while the assistant recorded.

"Deceased, female, aged 23 to 28. Based on the degree of decomposition of the body, the estimated time of death is 8-12 days ago."

"There are signs of life at the wound. The deceased was dismembered while still alive..."

The assistant sighed, "It's really pitiful. How much hatred must the deceased have to endure such torture at such a young age."

He said, frowning, seemingly lamenting the fact that such a young person died so tragically.

He picked up a gleaming surgical knife, size 24, and cut straight into the middle of my neck. The blade slid, cutting open the chest and abdomen.

"The victim's head was repeatedly struck with a blunt object, causing severe brain damage."

"The face was corroded by strong acid... with signs of plastic surgery..."

"There are multiple binding injuries and stab wounds all over the body... The victim endured a long period of inhumane torture before death."

"And the stomach contents... cement!"

The assistant next to him almost screamed.

"What a sicko! Killing someone is not enough. How much hatred and resentment must there be to torture the victim like this, pouring cement into their stomach..."

Stephen carefully picked out a torn and corroded piece of paper from my stomach contents.

"There are words on it, there may be clues, send it to the forensic science department for examination immediately!"

The assistant wondered, "What kind of person and under what circumstances, would swallow paper into their stomach?"

I looked at the paper ball that I had swallowed into my stomach, feeling very nervous.

Could the writing on it really be restored?

Is my secret going to be exposed to the public? I thought.

After Stephen dissected, he skillfully sutured the abdominal cavity.

However, it would take a long time to repair my face and sew up my severed limbs.

At this moment, a young police officer rushed over anxiously.

"Mr. Green, the old woman who found the body insists on seeing you before revealing the location where the body was dumped. Do you know her? Is there any connection between you and the deceased?"

Stephen's breath paused, and his whole body stiffened.

"What did you say?"

He stared at the body on the dissecting table, his hand holding the surgical knife trembling slightly, with a complex expression that I couldn't understand.

After a while, he put down the surgical knife and hurriedly rushed out.

Even though I knew deep down that my body had become so decayed that I couldn't even recognize myself, how could he possibly recognize me?

But I couldn't help but feel nervous.

We have been in love for seven years, so he naturally knew my figure very well.

Would he... recognize me?

Please, don't recognize me... I thought.

When Stephen saw my grandma, he seemed a bit dazed and lost.

He had seen her once before, but at that time, she was still a spirited and smiling old lady.

But she in front of him was hunched over, skinny, and lifeless all over.

He seemed to recognize it, but he didn't dare to admit it.

At the moment when Stephen appeared, my grandma suddenly stood up and looked into his eyes, which were turbid, red, and filled with complex emotions.

After a long time, she finally calmed down and pleaded,

"Mr. Green, I am Betty's grandmother. I would like to ask you for a favor."

Hearing my name, Stephen's face darkened.

The police leaned close to his ear and whispered.

He frowned, his face filled with disgust towards me. "What favor?"

Seeing him loosen up, Grandma hurriedly said, "Please, Mr. Green, let me see Nana, can I?"

Stephen suddenly became furious. "It was her who sent you, right! That kind of woman, how is she worthy of mentioning Nana.!"

"It's been three years, and she is still so malicious! She even wants to use innocent victims. She is simply unworthy of being human!"

He thought that I had seen his interview video and learned that his legs had healed, and that he had escaped from the mental hospital and wanted to get even with me.

So deliberately using my grandma who found the body, to make trouble, play tricks, and force him to let me see Nana.

My grandma was so anxious that her eyes turned red. Her tone was almost pleading. "Please, give me a photo of Nana! Please..."

Stephen turned his face away, unmoved.

"Tell her to come and confess to me in person. I want her to kneel in front of my parents' memorial tablet and repent for her mistakes!"

My grandma was stunned for a moment and wiped away her tears.

"Betty... she can't come to see you, Mr. Green..."

Stephen coldly snorted, "Can't come? After what she did to me, I don't think she has the face to come!"

My grandma's face was haggard, her dry and cracked lips moved as she spoke, filled with pleas.

"Mr. Green, Betty... she has her reasons, please don't blame her..."

Stephen sneered, "Her reasons? Well! What kind of reason could make her betray the Green family and kill my parents!"

"And What kind of reason could make her lock me and Nana in a mental hospital, depriving us of our freedom for three whole years?"

My grandma clutched her chest in pain, trembling all over.

Stephen's voice was as cold as ice, "I wish she were dead! Even if she died a thousand times, it wouldn't make up for the harm she has done to our family!"

Upon hearing the word "dead", my grandma was stunned for a moment, tears streaming down her face as she stammered,

"My Betty... she's dead... she can never come back..."

"That corpse, it's her..."

Stephen suddenly froze, looking at her in disbelief.

After a while, a cold smile appeared on his face.

"Oh, what tricks is Betty Gordon playing now? After using a dead person, she's now pretending to be dead?"

"Tell her, it's better for her to really die. Otherwise, even if I dig three feet into the ground, I will dig her out and make her pay for what she has done!"

After saying that, he turned around and left.

My grandma looked at his back, hunched over, her thin shoulders trembling violently, her voice filled with sorrow:

"Betty really had her reasons..."

My heart ached.

I wanted to reach out and hug my crying grandma, but my hands passed through her body.

It was only then that I realized, I was dead.

I can't do anything anymore...

The policewoman helped my grandma up. After a long time, she finally calmed down and told them about the abandoned garbage dump where I was discovered.

But it has been too long, and the killer had a strong anti-investigation awareness, leaving no clues at all.

My grandma was excluded from the suspicion of murder and corpse disposal, and was educated. She found the body and should protect the scene and immediately call the police, and then she was sent back home.

But my soul did not follow her, but drifted back to Stephen's home.

A little girl curled up on the sofa, too tired to open her eyes.

Seeing her, Stephen slightly relaxed. He kissed her on the face and then carried her to the children's room.

I burst into tears and felt a sharp pain in my heart.

Nana...

After three years of separation, she was no longer the same as when she was just a month old, but we were connected by heart. I recognized her at a glance. She is my Nana...

My transparent hand gently touched the chubby little face of Nana.

Her eyebrows and eyes resemble me and Stephen.

This was my Nana, my baby...

Nana opened his eyes in a daze and whispered, "Daddy..."

"Have you found Mommy?"

Stephen froze, his eyes filled with complexity. "We will find her."

I broke down and cried.

My Nana... Mommy is so sorry for you... I thought.

I floated onto the small bed and lay beside Nana. As if sensing it, she turned over and nestled into my arms.

Even though I knew I couldn't touch her, I was afraid of waking her up.

My transparent hand gently patted her back. I hummed an off-key tune, just like all mothers soothing their children to sleep, gently coaxing her.

"Mommy..."

She nestled in my transparent embrace, murmuring softly in her dreams, her furrowed brow slowly relaxing as she entered dreamland.

After Nana fell asleep, Stephen gently rubbed her head. When he pulled his hand back, he found a strand of Nana's hair stuck to it.

He hesitated for a moment, inexplicably, took an evidence bag, and carefully put the hair into it.

He gently closed the door of Nana's room, sat on the sofa, and stared at the almost invisible hair in the evidence bag.

In the darkness, his figure was surrounded by an indescribable loneliness and solitude.

I don't know how long it took, I saw him reach into his shirt collar and take out a necklace from inside.

His fingertips gently touched the pendant of the necklace, with a gentle and trance-like expression, completely different from his coldness in front of my grandma during the day.

Seeing that necklace, I was a little stunned.

It was the first salary he earned from his part-time job when we just got together, a plain silver necklace.

Three years ago, when I forced him to divorce, I said that this necklace was cheap and had already been thrown away.

He hated me to the core, why did he find the necklace back, and still...

The feeling of cherishing?

After a long time, he took out his phone and flipped through the album to find a photo of me from three years ago.

I hadn't been disfigured yet, and there was a happy smile on my face.

He operated the phone and kept zooming in on the area around my collarbone in the photo.

Right there was a small mole.

He seemed to think of something, took the car keys, and rushed to the dissecting room.

On the cold dissecting table, the white cloth imprinted my mutilated figure.

He stood in front of the dissecting table, stunned for a while, and finally reached out his trembling hand to lift the white cloth.

Holding the phone, he eagerly searched for that small mole on the corpse, comparing it with the photo.

As if he wanted to prove something.

Unfortunately, a hideous scar extended from my neck to my collarbone, with flesh and blood flying, revealing the bone.

But the trace of the red mole had long disappeared.

He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

"I knew it, how could that woman possibly die!"

After a pause, he took out his phone, opened WhatsApp, and sent a message to the WhatsApp account I used three years ago.

[Betty Gordon, are you disgusted by this pretending-to-be-dead trick!]

[Even if you were dead, I would never forgive you!]

My heart couldn't stop aching, but this path was chosen by myself.

If hating me could make him feel a little better, I would rather have him hate me for the rest of his life.