On our seventh anniversary, I got a call from my boyfriend, Ryan Gentry, asking me to come by his office. But on the way there, I was in a terrible car crash.

I was covered in blood when I managed to dial his number.

"Ryan…" I gasped.

His voice was impatient on the other end. "I have a meeting in half an hour. Make it quick."

I struggled to breathe through the pain, but he snapped, "What is it now? Can’t you be quiet for once?"

"I’m…," I tried to say goodbye, fighting for the words.

But he didn’t give me a chance. I could hear his secretary’s voice in the background, calling him sweetly.

Ryan responded coldly, "I’m busy. Don’t bother me unless it’s important. If you could be as considerate as my secretary, I wouldn’t be so annoyed."

The call ended abruptly.

He didn’t know that metal shards had pierced my lungs, and each breath I took was agonizing.

——

I could barely see through the encroaching darkness. My vision was fading, and each breath felt like a thousand needles stabbing my chest. I tried to speak, but blood choked my throat, and I coughed desperately.

Is this what it’s like to be on the edge of death?

Blood was pooling around me, and the sharp smell of gasoline was overwhelming. Today was our seventh anniversary, and Ryan had called me early this morning, unusually gentle, asking me to come to his office because he had something for me.

Lately, Ryan had been under a lot of stress at work and had been surprisingly kind to me. I left excited, wondering what he had planned. But then a runaway truck came barreling toward me.

My body was in agony, pinned in the driver’s seat.

The pain was excruciating, but what hurt even more was the thought of never hearing Ryan’s answer. He still owed me a wedding. How could I accept this?

I managed to call him, and after what felt like an eternity of ringing, he finally answered.

"Ryan…" I struggled to speak, wanting to apologize for missing our date and not being able to be with him anymore.

But his voice was impatient. "I have a meeting in half an hour. Make it quick."

"I don’t think I can make it…" I said through the pain.

I wanted to tell him about the accident, but after a brief silence, he responded coldly, "What are you playing at now? Don’t want to come? Then just don’t come at all."

"I'm not…" I tried to explain, but blood filled my lungs, and I could barely breathe.

"Mr. Gentry?" A sweet female voice interrupted, "Everything’s ready."

Ryan’s tone softened briefly, "Thanks for your help."

Then he returned to his usual coldness, "Yolia, if you don’t want to come, there are plenty of people who do."

I heard him hang up, and despair overwhelmed me. The pain was so intense that I couldn’t hold the phone anymore. It crashed to the ground. Through my blurred vision, I saw someone in orange running toward me, but then flames burst forth, and I was swallowed by darkness.

I couldn’t accept it. I still didn’t have Ryan’s answer.

I couldn’t believe I was actually seeing Ryan.

The pain from the flames was unbearable. One moment, I could smell my burning flesh, and the next, I was spinning through darkness and found myself in Ryan’s bright, airy office.

He sat casually at his desk, impeccably dressed in a suit. Behind him, his secretary, Reina Becker, was gently massaging his shoulders. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over them, creating a scene that was both serene and perfect.

I stood there, stunned, watching them.

Ryan was clearly irritated by my call. Reina glanced at him and spoke softly, "Mr. Gentry, if Miss Hayes can’t make it, what about tonight’s event…"

Ryan sighed in frustration. "You’re coming with me to the charity gala tonight. We’ll go shopping for clothes together."

Reina’s face brightened momentarily before she quickly masked her smile. "But everyone else brings their wives to these events. Maybe Miss Hayes is just running late. Should we try calling her again?"

Ryan scoffed. "We’re not married. I told you to go, so you go."

Reina tried to sound sympathetic. "Alright, if Miss Hayes is upset, I’ll make sure to explain things to her."

For a moment, I saw a flash of disgust on Ryan’s face. I knew he didn’t like it when women got jealous and unreasonable, so I did my best to be an understanding girlfriend. I held back my frustrations, avoided being jealous, and stayed calm.

Even when he forgot our anniversary or socialized with other women, I accepted it all. I told myself it was normal for him to be busy while starting his career.

Reina’s comment clearly struck a nerve with Ryan. He sneered, "If she’s going to act like a spoiled brat, I’ll just break up with her!"

I felt a chilling numbness spread through me. I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t hanging up or missing our date out of spite. It was the accident that had taken my life. I tried to move closer, desperately wanting to explain, "It’s not like that. I wasn’t being difficult on purpose…"

But he couldn’t hear me or see me.

The stark reality hit me hard. I was dead, and there was no way to explain this to Ryan.

I could only watch helplessly as he left the office with Reina. I followed them, unable to escape the scene. The traffic was gridlocked, a long line of cars stretching ahead. Drivers honked impatiently, creating a cacophony of noise that was nearly unbearable.

Ryan’s frustration was evident. "Why is it so congested today?"

The driver responded, "I heard there’s been an accident up ahead. A car exploded…"

My heart dropped. That was my accident! If Ryan passed by the scene, he would recognize our car! I watched him with desperate hope, praying he’d see it…

"Mr. Gentry, this is so frightening!" Reina clung to Ryan’s arm, her voice trembling. "Usually, in accidents like this, the victims are in terrible shape."

A wave of dread washed over me. Ryan glanced at the fearful secretary and said gently, "Let’s take another route. Don’t scare her."

"How unlucky," he muttered under his breath.

No! My heart sank further as I watched the driver turn onto a different road, narrowly missing a speeding ambulance.

Even though I had already died in the flames and my heart had long stopped beating, the pain inside me was overwhelming.

I followed them numbly. The party dragged on into the early hours, and Ryan drank far too much. When it finally ended, Reina helped him into the car, his steps unsteady and wavering.

I watched as Reina guided him to the front door. She deliberately messed up her hair and collar, smeared her lipstick on Ryan’s clothes, and rang the doorbell with a self-satisfied air. In a sweet, coaxing voice, she called out, “Yolia, Yolia, Mr. Gentry’s drunk. I brought him home. Can you open the door?”

I knew exactly what she was doing. She was deliberately trying to provoke me. She used to record Ryan’s criticisms of me and send them my way, claiming it was to help me improve. Later, she began sending photos of Ryan with other women.

At first, I would confront Ryan, but all that earned me was his irritation. He would slam things down and shout, “Yolia, are you spying on me? Who do you think you are?”

Then he’d turn to Reina and say, “Has she been threatening you? Don’t let her get to you.”

Reina would act all hurt and say, “But Yolia said…”

I would stand there, powerless, as Ryan comforted the seemingly distressed secretary. So, I became the villain in their story, the nagging, unreasonable woman who tracked his every move.

Reina was a pro at playing the victim. Now, she knocked on the door, pleading, “Yolia? Are you angry? Even if you are, you can’t just leave Mr. Gentry out here…”

Ryan, finally roused by her persistent knocking, frowned and fished out his keys from his pocket. He unlocked the door, his voice tinged with impatience. “Yolia, you…”

His words died in his throat as he stepped inside. The house was pitch dark and empty.

Even when Ryan stayed out late for work, I’d wait up for him. No matter how late, I’d make him millet porridge and have hangover remedies ready, knowing he’d have a splitting headache when he woke up. But tonight, there was none of that.

Ryan’s face darkened with frustration as he pushed Reina aside and staggered into the room. I watched him tear through drawers and cabinets, searching for something. My passport, ID Card, and clothes were all in there. When he finally found them, he seemed to relax a bit, then muttered through clenched teeth, “She really has some nerve staying out all night.”

I stood beside him, aching to tell him that I didn’t choose to be gone. I was dead. I could never return home.

I had no idea when Ryan would learn about my death. The explosion might have destroyed all evidence of me. I reached out, trying to touch his face, but my hand passed through him and gently rested on his cheek.

Reina, with a sickly sweet tone, said, “Ryan, don’t let her make you sick.”

She guided him toward the bed, deliberately brushing past a photo frame of us. She nudged the frame, and it fell, shattering the glass.

My heart ached as I looked at the photo. Ryan wasn’t fond of taking pictures, but this one was from when I had begged him to. It showed us early in our relationship, with him smiling and holding me close. Over time, though, his feelings had turned to impatience and irritation.

“Oh! I’m so sorry… It’s all my fault,” Reina said, pretending to be concerned as she knelt to pick up the shards.

Ryan grabbed her hand to stop her. “Be careful, you might cut yourself.”

His eyes landed on the torn photo, and he casually picked it up.

A cold wave of dread washed over me as I tried desperately to stop him, only to pass through him again and again.

“No, Ryan, you can’t…” I pleaded in vain.

I was dead. My words couldn’t reach him, and I couldn’t prevent him from what he was doing. All I could do was watch as he pulled out a lighter and set our only photo ablaze. The flames danced, slowly consuming the image. I watched in despair as the fire burned away our smiles, turning the picture into ashes. Ryan let the charred remains fall into the water-filled ashtray.

He sank onto the bed, muttering, “Just looking at it bothers me.”

At that moment, my heart crumbled into ashes, just like the photo.

Reina watched with smug satisfaction as everything unfolded. Her gaze fell on the vanity mirror, where Ryan’s gift to me was a ring. When we first got together, Ryan didn’t have much money, so he could only afford a ring without any diamonds. I loved that ring and kept it carefully in its jewelry box.

I cherished it deeply, and Reina knew this. Now, she picked it up and remarked, “Mr. Gentry, this ring is really beautiful!”

I clenched my fists and turned to Ryan. He stared at the ring for a moment before smirking and saying, “If you like it, take it.”

I was stunned. He was giving away the symbol of our seven years together so casually.

At that moment, I felt my hope die completely.

I watched coldly as Reina climbed into bed beside Ryan. He didn’t stop her. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Reina’s lips curled into a smug smile.

Ryan said, “If she were even half as considerate as you…”

But what does it even mean to be considerate? Wasn’t everything I did enough?

I couldn’t figure out where I went wrong. All I could do was stand there, watching them.

I watched them in my neatly arranged home, lying on the bed I had prepared. I watched them dirty my favorite sheets.

Strangely, I felt no pain at that moment. Perhaps Ryan’s betrayal was something I had long expected.

I had been alone since childhood, my parents gone and few friends to speak of. Ryan was my only connection to the world. When we first got together, he held my hand and promised he’d always be there, never letting me feel alone. He was so gentle then, and his vows felt so sincere. But just seven years later, those promises and the man who made them were gone.

Ryan fell into a deep sleep, while Reina, with a triumphant smirk, left a kiss on his cheek and took several intimate photos of them together. She sent them to me without hesitation.

[Mr. Gentry is drunk.]

At that moment, everything felt absurdly comical. I couldn’t understand why she was so eager to provoke me as if driving me away would mean she could have Ryan all to herself.

But Ryan wouldn’t love just one person, not even her.

Just as I was lost in these thoughts, a deep, low voice cut through the darkness: “What are you doing?”

In the dim light, Ryan’s eyes, dark and intense, were fixed on Reina. He hadn’t been asleep after all!