The day I died, Monique had finally given in to my constant pestering and promised she'd come home for dinner. I cooked the meal and even put on the suit she had picked out for me, but she never came home.

As the time I'd agreed on with the system drew closer, I drained my phone battery and could only watch helplessly as the system chose how I would die. I didn't know if it was the system's twisted sense of humor, but it threw my body off the building closest to where Connor was proposing.

Monique had no idea she was supposed to die in that car accident. For her and the child in her womb, I'd made a deal with the system. Two lives, at the cost of my own immortality.

The irony was that Monique lost her memory and didn't even blink before aborting our four-month-old baby. When she threw that bloody mess at me, my heart shattered.

The doctor diagnosed me with severe depression, and Monique treated it like a joke to share with Connor. He then went out of his way to sharpen a knife and place it in front of me.

"Depressed people kill themselves, you know. Why don't you do it so we'll believe you?"

I knew Connor had always competed with me in secret over grades, Monique's affection, and everything. I just never expected he'd compete over who could be more ruthless too.

If he hadn't dumped all his debts on Monique, she would've never seen his true nature. But one bout of amnesia was all it took for her to throw herself back into Connor's arms without a second thought.

I was like a clown being toyed with, just another piece in their game.

I grew tired of this endless entanglement. I just wanted to give myself and Monique one last dignified goodbye.

But Monique's cruelty chilled me to the bone, and combined with the agony of hitting the ground, I couldn't help but hate them both. I wanted to see if their love was really as unshakeable as they claimed.

…

The next day, Connor brought Monique to a class reunion. Some of the people there were mutual friends of mine and Monique's.

They stared glumly at Monique laughing in Connor's arms before they lost it. "Monique, did you and Scott get divorced?"

At the sudden mention of my name, the private room fell silent.

Monique and Connor interlaced their fingers, and she answered carelessly, "We'll divorce eventually. Scott's just being petty and dragging it out, trying to squeeze more money out of me. Our marriage has been dead for ages."

Everyone exchanged glances, then burst out laughing as if they'd heard the most ridiculous joke.

One of my closer friends stifled his laughter and asked, "Monique, do you hear yourself right now? Scott's after your money?"

Others who knew the truth chimed in.

"Monique, have you forgotten how you were the one chasing after Scott back then?"

"Monique, you must be dreaming! Scott paid off your debts and supported you, and now you're accusing him of this?"

Under this barrage of accusations, Monique's expression grew increasingly ugly.

"Enough! I don't care how much Scott paid you all to slander me. I'm not buying it.

"You're calling me ungrateful, but without Connor, I wouldn't even be standing here today."

Connor squeezed Monique's hand tightly. The two of them looked like star-crossed lovers breaking through adversity.

Someone persisted, pressing further. "Monique, I heard you hit your head in that car accident and lost your memory. Do you remember when Connor left you? And how can you be so sure he's the one who saved you?"

Monique fell silent. I applauded this perceptive friend wholeheartedly.

I suspected Monique knew deep down who really saved her, but her desire to be with Connor had taken over, and she refused to admit it. To be clear, we both had been in that car accident together.

My external injuries hadn't been obvious. I'd just carried Monique to the hospital when I started vomiting blood and passed out, going straight into surgery.

By the time I'd mostly recovered, I found Connor feeding Monique some soup. I nearly choked on my rage right then and there.

The first person Monique saw when she woke up was Connor, so she decided he had to be her savior. She fought back against me with punches and kicks, pointing at my nose and cursing me for being shameless and reaching above my station.

It wasn't until I showed her our marriage certificate that Monique believed she was actually married. What I never expected was for her to secretly abort the baby just because Connor said he didn't want to be a stepfather.

Five years of marriage, and I'd tolerated all her willfulness. She kept photos of her and Connor locked in her drawer. I told myself everyone had a few unforgettable first loves.

Occasionally, when she heard news about Connor, she'd get drunk and throw tantrums. I'd swallow my hurt and help her wash up and get to bed.

She'd clearly been excited about the baby, too. She'd even knitted baby clothes herself and eagerly huddled next to me to discuss baby names. I never imagined that a car accident would take away Monique's conscience along with her memory.

I brought up divorce for the first time because of the baby, and she refused. The funny thing was that I thought she still had some attachment to our home. It turned out she just thought I was after our joint assets. What a joke.

Seeing the usually sharp-tongued Monique at a loss for words was rare. Connor started smoothing things over and calling for more drinks.

That look of infatuation returned to Monique's eyes. After several rounds of drinks, Connor drunkenly insisted Monique take him home.

Everyone knew what was about to happen, though some of the more judgmental classmates muttered about how shameless they were.

Under everyone's gaze, Monique stumbled out with Connor and got into the car. But to my surprise, she didn't even let him through the front door.

Hearing Monique's rejection, Connor clenched his fists, looking hurt.

"I know you might blame me, but I had my reasons back then. You promised to wait for me, but then you married Scott so quickly."

I wanted to punch him in the face. Connor loved playing the gentle, wounded victim, twisting the truth with that silver tongue of his.

But Monique's tense expression softened, and she gently embraced Connor.

"Don't worry. I won't believe them. I'll divorce Scott as soon as possible."

"You've had a lot to drink tonight. Let me stay and take care of you."

"No!" The resistance in Monique's voice was obvious, shocking both Connor and me.

But then again, she never liked bringing people home. I'd always strictly followed that rule.

Connor's face twisted for a moment before he got into a cab through gritted teeth. "You just can't let go of your husband! I'm not some backup plan!"

For once, Monique didn't chase after him to smooth things over. Once inside, she didn't turn on the lights. Half-conscious, she mumbled, "Honey, get me a Gatorade."

Her tone was relaxed, disturbingly natural. I wasn't surprised. After five years of marriage, she'd grown too accustomed to my care.

Instead, Monique fell silent for a long time, then slapped herself hard across the face, as if trying to wake herself up. On impulse, she called me again.

The disconnected number tone made her furious. She called Ms. Kinsley instead, going on the offensive before the latter could even speak.

"I need to talk to Scott about the divorce. You'd better hand him over."

It sounded childish and ridiculous, as if I were some rare treasure that needed hiding.

Ms. Kinsley's voice was hoarse. "Monique, Scott really is dead."

Monique trembled, her hand shaking as she held the phone. "No! That's impossible!

"Ms. Kinsley, stop joking around. Scott's still so healthy. How could he be dead?"

"The nurse called you so many times, and you didn't answer. Why didn't you pick up the call ? Scott would never stay away from you this long. Didn't you find that suspicious?" Ms. Kinsley choked up and began sobbing quietly.

Monique's face went blank for a moment, unable to speak. "Ms. Kinsley, where is Scott buried? I need to find him."

She pulled open a drawer to look for her keys but froze when she saw a document. It was the divorce agreement I'd already signed.

She took several deep breaths. Before Ms. Kinsley could give her an address, she sneered coldly. "Ms. Kinsley, I must be crazy to even think about believing you.

"Does Scott think signing a divorce agreement means we're divorced? No! I don't agree!

"Tell him to meet me at the courthouse tomorrow. If he doesn't show up, I'm going to the police to report you all for marriage fraud!

"Ms. Kinsley, you wouldn't want those kids ending up on the streets starving to death, would you?"

Goosebumps rose all over my body. I couldn't help but shout at Monique in rage. "Monique, you've really lost it. I already signed the divorce papers. What more do you want from me?"

Ms. Kinsley's voice turned sharp. "Fine! Fine! Monique, you just wait. Tomorrow, I guarantee you'll see him."

Then, Ms. Kinsley hung up without mercy. Monique smiled like she'd won a victory and went to sleep.

…

The next day, Monique grimaced as she downed some water and painkillers, then dressed up and headed to the courthouse. I was somewhat surprised. She never usually remembered what she said while drinking.

At 10:00 am, Monique finally saw Ms. Kinsley arrive. She stopped pacing and walked over with an elegant stride, smiling.

"I knew you were lying to me…"

Monique's words died abruptly. My eyes widened, too.

Ms. Kinsley had brought an urn with my ashes.