In the final second before the elevator crashed down, my husband finally picked up my desperate call for help.

I begged him, who was in charge of elevator maintenance, to save me.

"That elevator was just serviced. What game are you playing?" he snapped. "Wasn't your silent treatment so strong? Keep going and stop bothering me. It's Marina's birthday today."

I never reached out to him again. I died.

Later, he'd have given anything just to see me one more time.

A newly repaired elevator malfunctioned after just two days, killing someone. The news shook all of Oleta.

My husband, Anthony Hamilton, was the head of elevator maintenance. Because of the accident, his supervisor called him in for questioning.

Once it was done, he stepped out of the office.

Maybe it was my lingering obsession, but my soul broke free from my body and drifted to his side.

He strode into his office with a sullen expression. A woman with perfect makeup showed up.

"Anthony," she called out, her soft voice soothing him instantly.

But my heart sank as I saw her face. It was Marina Dotson, his childhood sweetheart.

Anthony tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his tone dripping with affection.

"Why are you here? Didn't I tell you to rest at home?" he said.

Marina pouted. "I missed you, so I came by. Where's my birthday gift?"

He crooked his finger and brushed her nose. "I've had it ready for ages."

Floating behind them, I watched him produce a bracelet from his drawer and slip it onto her wrist.

A sharp pang spread through me. 'Has he forgotten it's also my birthday?'

Marina beamed with happiness. "So, you're not gonna ditch me for Caitlin tonight, right? You'll celebrate with me?"

He paused, but his doting smile returned soon. "Of course."

That crushed the last shred of hope I had left.

As he started to leave with her, he spotted a photo on his coworker's desk. It was a snapshot of the accident scene.

I hovered closer and saw myself in the picture.

My face was smashed beyond recognition, my body twisted unnaturally. The sewage under the elevator had been drained, but filth still clung to me, hiding my features.

Anthony picked up the photo. In it, I clutched my shattered phone.

I sighed. If it hadn't broken, it would've shown his number. It was the only call I made at the last moments.

Too bad there were no ifs.

"A friend on the police force said the victim had ankle surgery once," George Turner explained. "Steel pins and plates are still in there. They can ID her by the plate model."

Anthony's hand shook as he held the photo.

I remembered that day. It was our anniversary.

I'd stopped him from running off to the movie with Marina.

His cold words still echoed in my head. "Anniversaries come every year. This is the movie's last showing. Be sensible."

He shoved me hard, and my ankle snapped. He hesitated but eventually walked away.

Rainy days still brought aching pain to that injured spot.

"Any shots of the victim's ankle?" he asked.

George fished one out from the deck, but Marina snatched it and tossed it on the desk.

"Why bother with this stuff?" she whined. "You promised me a movie. We're running late."

Anthony ruffled her hair. "Alright, let's go."

Bitterness engulfed me as I watched them leave like an affectionate couple.

If he had just looked at the photo closer, he would have seen the anklet that was covering my surgery scar.

He bought it for me, and I wore it every day like a treasure.

I remembered him once grumbling, "Seriously? Jealous of Marina? She is like a sister to me. You made me sick."

But their relationship was not that simple.

She would call him in the middle of the night when it thundered and ask him to keep her company.

Anthony was just kidding me or himself.

I trailed him as he took Marina back to our house and cooked dinner for her.

They exchanged smiles from time to time, which stabbed at me like a knife.

Marina suddenly knocked over the photo frame, causing it to crash on the floor.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to," she said, nibbling her lip.

Anthony only focused on her hands, checking them carefully. "Thankfully, you're not hurt."

He frowned at the mess and swept the photo into the trash.

I smiled bitterly. His care for her was a stark contrast to his indifference to me.

Marina naturally grabbed his hands, asking innocently, "Do you think Caitlin would be upset and kick me out if I stayed?"

Anthony chuckled, looking at her tenderly. "I'm the man of the house. She's got no say. Stay as long as you want."

I caught the smug glint in her eyes, feeling a pang of regret.

I used to be a hotshot in the business world, pulling in millions a year.

For our little family, I quit. For him, I learned to cook, burning and cutting my hands countless times.

Marina's voice pulled me back. She tugged his arm, whining, "I want some pastries."

"Two years of eating them, and you're still not sick of them?" he teased.

She shook her head. "Caitlin makes them so good. I can't get enough."

That was when I realized all those pastries I made for Anthony had ended up in her stomach.

"Alright, I'll call her and get her home to make some," he said.

Marina threw herself into his arms. "You're the best."

Anthony rubbed her cheek. "Anything to make you happy."

He dialed my number but could not get through. That was normal because I was dead.

His face darkened with irritation, and he texted me: [If you want next month's allowance, get home now.]

His commanding tone cut me deep. Even as a ghost, I could still feel the hurt.

"She's probably pulling that runaway stunt again to get your attention," Marina grunted. "Don't fall for it."

"A housewife with no family?" Anthony smirked. "She's got no leverage to play games with me."

He sent me another message. [If you're not back in 30 minutes, we're done.]

It was the second time he'd threatened divorce since Marina came back. The first was when I drank some honey water for cramps. It was what he had made for her.

She whined about it, and he ditched me for a week to pamper her. When he finally came home, he called me vicious and demanded a divorce.

Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined he would say something like that. He had promised to love me for a lifetime.

I slapped him, and he stormed out.

If Marina hadn't clamored for my pastries, he might've never remembered me.

He walked her into the room, and she kept him there under the pretext of fearing the dark.

I just didn't expect him not to share her bed.

After she dozed off, he slipped into our room and froze at the sight of our wedding photo off the wall.

Hesitated, he called me again, but there was no answer.

He raked his hair in frustration and kicked my suitcase. It spilled open, and two outfits and hundreds of our photos slipped out.

He picked one up. It was him proposing to me.

Back then, he only had eyes for me. Yet his love had vanished in just a few years.

"Anthony," Marina called out.

She stood at the door in his shirt. Her bare legs radiated temptation under the light.

He rushed over, scooping her up. "The floor's cold. You'll get sick."

She blushed in his arms as he carried her to our bed, but her eyes glinted when she saw the scattered photos on the floor.

"I got a picture from a friend," she said. "The person in it seems to be Caitlin. Wanna see it?"

I floated over, stunned when I saw her phone screen.

Anthony snarled, firing off messages.

[You slut, can't keep your legs closed?]

[Damn it, you're cheating on me?]

I laughed at his blind rage. The edit was so obvious, but he didn't see it.

Watching him shred our photos, I wanted to slap him silly.

For the rest of the night, he was cursing non-stop.

Loving him was the biggest mistake I had made in my life.

He didn't sleep a wink, yet he still insisted on making breakfast for Marina the next morning.

"Are you really going to divorce Caitlin?" she asked tentatively.

"I will get to the bottom of this," he said, slamming his bowl onto the table. "If she really betrayed me, I'll make sure she leaves with nothing."

I laughed and looked around. Everything in this house, from the decor to the ornaments, was handpicked by me.

From now on, they were all his.

After breakfast, Marina insisted on going to the company with him.

Anthony gladly agreed and took her along.

In his office, he set some fruit down in front of her and told her to take a nap if she got tired.

George burst in, out of breath. "A friend on the police force said the victim seemed to be Caitlin."

Anthony's face twitched. "Don't talk nonsense."

Before George could explain, Marina stepped up to Anthony, clinging to his arm like she owned him.

"Did Caitlin put you up to it?" she snorted. "Tell her that Anthony's too busy to play along with her dumb drama. If she doesn't get back home now, he's seriously gonna dump her."

George was at a loss.

"I thought we were tight," Anthony sighed. "And here you are, playing along with Caitlin. Marina's right. I don't have time for her games. Tell her to get home immediately."

Tears streamed down my face as I heard that. One word from Marina, and everything I was got erased.

His care for her was a stark contrast to his indifference to me.

Suddenly, a stern voice cut through the room. "Hello, is Mr. Anthony Hamilton here?"

A police officer appeared in the doorway, announcing, "After a thorough investigation, we've confirmed the victim from the elevator crash two days ago was Caitlin Hamilton."

Anthony's body swayed, and his face turned ashen.

"How is that possible?" he muttered.