After hanging up the phone, I removed the diamond ring from my finger. It seemed like a harsh, jagged stone at that moment, hurting my eyes.

The clock was about to strike midnight.

“I’m ready,” I said to the system, my voice barely a whisper. “Take me away.”

“Host, please try a little harder,” the system urged. “I can buy you some time. Go find him and bring him back.”

But that hope faded when I saw Althea's post on social media.

She had written, [I casually mentioned it and Darius drove over thirty kilometers to buy me a mango cake.]

Even through the screen, Darius's comment oozed affection. [Fool, as long as you like it, no distance is too far for me.]

Darius was allergic to mangoes and cream. Even the smell made him uncomfortable, so I never brought them into our home despite how much I craved them. My past care and consideration now seemed like a cruel joke.

I took a selfie and posted it on social media with the caption, [Goodbye to those who loved me.]

The clock’s hand finally passed midnight.

I instructed the system to do its work, slipped into my favorite dress and lay quietly on the bed. We prepared the bridal chamber two years ago.

The light from the ceiling cast soft patterns over me. I could feel my life slowly slipping away, like sinking into the unknown. I heard my breathing, the wind, the water and the cicadas chirping.

Everything seemed to be growing, aging, dying and being reborn at an astonishing speed.

Then I heard a familiar knock on the door, which only Darius had been used to doing.

He had forgotten his keys again. But I could no longer get up.

My phone rang repeatedly, but I had no strength to answer it. Eventually, he opened the door.

I heard his hurried footsteps rushing into the bedroom.

He said, "Vera, why didn’t you answer my calls? What did you mean by that post?”

When I didn’t respond, his breathing grew heavier.

He hated it when I stayed silent during arguments.

I thought he had surely come closer to find out what was happening.

Then he saw that I was dying.

"Darius, come on, come closer," I thought.

But the next moment, he seemed to calm down.

His tone became more measured, almost like he was negotiating.

"Vera, if you’re just trying to get my attention," he said, "I won’t be fooled. I’m not playing games with you."

It wasn’t a negotiation. It was a discussion.

“Vera,” he said. “You know Althea is my teacher’s only daughter. Before her death, my teacher’s wife asked me to take care of her.”

He continued, “But now she’s gravely ill, about to die. Her last wish is to have a wedding. I promise there’s nothing inappropriate between us. I mean, it’s just a formality.”

His voice gradually faded as he spoke and I could no longer hear the rest of what he said.

My soul seemed to drift out and float in the air at that moment. I saw Darius clearly, wearing a suit and frowning as if waiting for my response.

But I couldn’t respond.

“Darius Williams, I’ve already died,” I thought. “I died right in front of you.”

After a long silence, he still didn’t hear me speak and let out a few heavy breaths.

It was his way of reacting when irritated, though he held it in for Althea’s sake.

He placed the warm milk on the nightstand and said, “I know you’re not asleep. Drink the milk later; it’ll help you sleep.”

He added, “And stop posting all that nonsense on social media. Do you want the whole world to see it and judge me? Would that make you happy?”

I knew him well.

When he said that, he held back his anger, which was almost laughable.

He remembered Althea was sick, remembered feeding Althea’s dog and even remembered telling me about the wedding ceremony with her.

But he forgot that today was our seventh anniversary.

He rushed back just to ask me not to post on social media so I wouldn’t embarrass him.

He came to inform me that he was having a wedding with another woman.

Darius hated dealing with cold wars. Whenever we fought, he stayed late at work or slept in the guest room.

He only returned once I had calmed down, leaning against my shoulder and acting spoiled.

“Lol, my queen, the most beautiful and kind. Please, forgive me,” he would say.

This time was no different. He turned and started walking toward the guest room.

But there had never been a day when I forgave him again.

Just as he reached the door, he hesitated and turned back. He stood beside the bed, leaned down and kissed my forehead.

“Don’t be petty,” he said. “Althea is about to die. My wedding with her is just a formality.”

He continued, “Next month, I’ll marry you. Our wedding will be the grandest in the city and you’ll be the most beautiful bride in the world.”

My soul floated beside him, hearing his empty promises. I broke down and screamed, “Look at me! I’m already dead! The bride you’re talking about is gone!”

“The man who once ran out into a storm to buy me medicine when I sneezed, how can you not realize I’ve died right in front of you?” I cried out.

But he couldn’t hear a word. He tucked the blanket around me and said, “Why are you so cold? Cover yourself up properly so you don’t catch a cold.”

The following day, the doorbell rang. It was Althea.

Her eyes were swollen as if she had been crying for a long time.

“What’s wrong?” Darius asked.

Althea handed him her medical report and said, “The doctor said the cancer has spread. I only have two months left.”

Tears fell one by one onto Darius’ shoulder. He felt deeply distressed. Every move he made around her was careful and gentle.

“Darius, I only have one wish before I die. You’ll help me fulfill it, won’t you?” Althea asked.

Darius glanced toward the master bedroom, a flicker of something crossing his eyes.

“She’ll agree. She’s not a petty person,” he replied.

Darius cooked for Althea, making her favorite seafood.

He served just one bowl, but none for me. It had been a long time since I had the cereal he made.

Ever since he started his company, I had felt sorry for him, seeing how hard he worked for our wedding. I never let him cook again.

Now, watching him care for Althea so tenderly, it felt like a knife twisting in my heart, the pain unbearable.

After comforting Althea, Darius lost the patience he had shown the night before. He violently pushed open the door, his expression dark.

His face grew even more displeased when he saw the untouched glass of milk by the bedside.

“Vera, you’re a grown woman still throwing a tantrum over a young girl. She only has two months left. Can’t you show some compassion?” Darius said.

He paused and added, “As for Althea, explain the situation to your friends. She’s dying and I don’t want her to hear anything unpleasant.”

At that moment, I felt like I had heard the biggest joke of my life.

My fiancé was planning a wedding with another woman and now he accused me of lacking compassion.

He even expected me to explain the situation to others.

Seeing that I still wasn’t speaking and was lying with my back to him, just like the night before, a flicker of panic appeared in Darius’s eyes.

He frowned and there was worry in his voice.

“Are you sick?” Darius asked.

He took a few steps toward me, sat on the edge of the bed and reached out his hand.

Darius, you better take me to my burial. I never wanted to see you again.