They say loving someone is like tending to a garden. Watching them now, I realized how true that was.

Years ago, Brandon Pruitt had been deported, returning in disgrace. He came to Bonnie like a wounded animal, begging for a place to stay. I tried to stop it. Bonnie respected my wishes at the time.

I never expected Brandon to hold such a deep grudge over my hesitation. I never expected him to abduct my daughter in retaliation.

And I certainly never expected Bonnie to help him cover it up.

Looking back, I had sacrificed everything to find Mandy. My job. My family's financial security. Every cent went to search teams and missing person flyers. I mortgaged my parents' home and sold off every asset to my name.

Bonnie knew the truth. She watched me drown in debt and agony.

Yet while I was on my knees begging for help, she used our joint savings to buy this villa for Brandon. She brought Mandy here, living openly with her first love in a twisted domestic fantasy.

I looked around the room. The decor was exquisite, the furnishings meticulous. Every cushion, every vase, every painting—hand-picked by Bonnie.

The woman who procrastinated for days before washing a single bowl at our house had poured her soul into this place. She moved mountains for Brandon. I couldn't even get her to look at me.

The difference between obligation and obsession was painful to witness.

I forced down the bile rising in my throat, willing the ghostly tears to stay unshed. Then Mandy looked up at Bonnie, her eyes wide and terrifyingly innocent.

"Mommy, when are you going to marry Uncle Brandon?" Her voice was sweet. "I want him to be my daddy."

The words were small, but they gutted me.

Bonnie froze. She didn't correct the child. She didn't rush to explain. Instead, she turned to Brandon, her expression softening into guilt.

"I'm sorry, Brandon," she murmured. "Being with me forces you to live in the shadows. You're such a good man, and I can't even give you the status you deserve."

Brandon leaned into her embrace, resting his head on her shoulder in practiced vulnerability.

"Just being with you is enough for me, Bonnie." His voice was soft. "I don't mind suffering a little. I just..." He paused. "I worry that I've wronged our child."

He wrapped his arms around her waist, his hand sliding down to rest possessively over her lower abdomen.

"You don't know how long I've waited for this baby. How much I've looked forward to starting a real family."

A baby?

The revelation struck like a physical blow. Before Bonnie could respond, her phone shattered the moment.

Bonnie, usually the model of professional discipline, ignored it. The ringtone persisted, grating and urgent. She declined the call four, maybe five times, desperate to preserve the mood.

Finally, with no other choice, she answered, her tone sharp.

"What is it? I told you not to disturb me when I'm off duty."

Spencer Lawrence's voice came through tight with panic.

"Captain, it's bad. We found a male corpse downstream. Forensics puts time of death as tonight."

Bonnie frowned, her hand still covering Brandon's on her stomach.

"The higher-ups say the timing is sensitive," Spencer continued. "To prevent public panic, they need you at the scene immediately."

Bonnie looked at Brandon, then at the cozy living room she had built for him.

"I have a family emergency," she lied. "I can't go."

"Captain, this is a major homicide case!" Spencer's voice rose. "A human life is at stake!"

Bonnie didn't move. She was already formulating a stronger excuse, searching for a way to brush off her duty so she could stay here in her perfect lie.

Watching her, a bitter, hollow laugh escaped me.

Before I died, I had made one last struggle. Countless times, I had called her. I begged Bonnie to come home, to just sit with me for a moment. I begged her to help me look for Mandy one last time.

I begged her to just look at me.

And now, she wouldn't even come to look at my body.

Every call ended the same way: with the sharp click of a disconnected line.

Her last words to me echoed in the silence. "Justin Simmons, you created this mess; you fix it. Don't come crying to me, even if you're dying. Don't cause me any more trouble."

Well, she got her wish. I was dead.

The irony was suffocating. Even in death, I couldn't make her look back at me. Not once. Years of devotion, years of love... all of it amounted to nothing.

Now, as a drifting spirit, I was forced to watch. I watched her cling to Brandon, kissing him, reluctant to leave his side. I watched her walk away from him, glancing back three times before finally focusing on her duty.

Meanwhile, down on the damp riverbank, the object of everyone's attention lay exposed.

My corpse.

Bloated and hideous. A night in the churning water had distorted my features beyond recognition. The face that was once mine was now a swollen, gruesome mask.

Bonnie arrived at the scene. A frown creased her forehead, but she quickly shifted into professional mode.

"No foreign footprints," she stated, her voice clipped. "Preliminary assessment rules out homicide. The deceased has multiple hesitation wounds on the arms, consistent with self-harm."

She stood over me, analyzing the wreckage of my life with clinical detachment.

"All evidence points to suicide. We'll need the autopsy to confirm."

She paused, letting out a rare sigh. "It's almost New Year's. What could have driven him to end it all right now?"

Spencer shook his head. "Yeah. No family here to identify him, either. Poor guy. He looks young."

He glanced at Bonnie, his tone turning casual. "Captain, I noticed you drove in from the south side. Were you celebrating the holiday with your husband, or out having fun somewhere else?"

Bonnie froze.

Her gaze drifted toward the residential complex in the distance—toward our apartment. Amidst the sea of festive lights, our windows remained dark.

She opened her mouth, but the words died in her throat. Instead, she shot Spencer a sharp look and returned to her work.

As she examined the corpse's hand, her eyes lingered on the wedding band for a fraction of a second.

But there was no spark of recognition. She didn't know it was me.

I shouldn't have been surprised. Bonnie was a busy woman. Busy with her career, busy covering Brandon's tracks. Why would she remember the details of a marriage I had forced upon her?

I was the one who begged to marry her. I bought the rings. I arranged everything in our home. The one who loves more is always the one who gets overlooked.

I had poured my entire soul into this family. In the end, I lost my daughter, I lost my wife, and now, my life.

I let out a silent sigh.

When I looked up, Brandon was standing by the police tape, waving.

The contrast was brutal. Whenever I brought meals to her office, she would scold me for disturbing her work, complaining that I was a nuisance. But now? She rushed over to him, her face lighting up with surprise.

She positioned herself carefully, blocking his view of the gruesome scene behind her, her eyes crinkling with a smile she never showed me.

"It's freezing out here," she murmured. "What are you doing here?"

Brandon smiled, reaching out to adjust her scarf. "It's late. I was worried about you. I made some sweet rice dumplings. Make sure you eat them when you're done."

Bonnie sighed, a sound of affectionate exasperation. "You really... You shouldn't have come. This place is filthy. I didn't want you to see anything that might scare you."

Filthy.

The word echoed in my mind.

She wasn't afraid of rumors. She wasn't afraid that her husband might find out about her affair.

Her only fear was that my bloated, rotting corpse might offend Brandon's delicate eyes.

Tears fell in the silence of the afterlife, unseen and unheard.

Bonnie had guided Brandon to a nearby bench, sitting him down with a tenderness that made my stomach churn. To any passerby, they didn't look like people at a crime scene. They looked like college sweethearts revisiting their old campus, lost in their own world.

They chatted casually, ignoring the bloated, battered reality lying just yards away.

They were ignoring me.

Brandon spoke first, his voice laced with practiced vulnerability. "Bonnie, I can't take it anymore. I can't accept my child calling another man 'Dad.'"

He leaned in, eyes soft and pleading. "You've seen it yourself—Mandy has always been closer to me. I know I can be a good father to her. Bonnie... leave Justin. Be with me."

He grabbed her hand, his grip urgent.

Bonnie sat in silence for a long moment, her expression conflicted. It was a look I knew well—the burden of a woman trying to balance the world on her shoulders.

"Brandon, you don't understand," she finally said, voice strained. "My relationship with Justin... it's complicated."

"I know the person I love is you. My heart has always been yours. But I can't just divorce him." She looked away, staring at the ground. "Justin... he did me a favor. I owe him."

The shifting sunlight cast shadows across her face, but I didn't need to see her eyes to hear the grievance in her tone.

For years, I had been deceiving myself.

I thought that if I loved her enough, if I sacrificed enough, she would eventually forget Brandon. I thought I could love her into staying.

But the truth was brutal: no one can compete with a ghost from the past. I was just the lucky fool who occupied the title of "husband."

She was grateful to me for giving her a home when she was down, yes. But she also hated me. Hated that my existence prevented her from being with her true love. She needed my stability, so she couldn't divorce me—and she twisted her guilt toward Brandon into resentment toward me.

I thought of Mandy's cold, distant eyes.

I thought of Bonnie's perpetual exhaustion whenever she looked at me.

Suddenly, the tragedy of my life crashed down on me.

I had sacrificed everything for a home that was never mine. I had given my life for a woman who didn't love me.

The wind picked up, scattering dead leaves across the bleak pavement.

Bonnie's voice turned soft, almost desolate. She squeezed Brandon's hand, making a gentle promise that felt like a knife in my chest.

"Don't worry. I won't let you or the baby suffer."

"A car, a house... aside from the marriage certificate, I can give you everything you want," she vowed. "Brandon, you have to believe me. You are the only man I will ever love."

Brandon smiled. Warm on the surface, but I saw the malice lurking in the corners of his mouth.

"Aren't you afraid Justin will find out about Mandy?" he asked, dripping with false concern.

Bonnie froze for a split second, then gently shook her head.

"You don't know him."

"Justin is obsessed with me. He can't live without me," she said with terrifying confidence. "Even if he learns the truth, he won't have the heart to blame me."

She took a breath, outlining her master plan. "I've already thought it through. It's his birthday next month. I'll bring Mandy back home then."

"With his daughter back by his side, he'll be so happy he won't have the energy to care about us," she reasoned. "He'll be distracted. And then, I can properly be with you..."

Maybe there was a shred of guilt left in her heart. Or maybe she was just calculating the path of least resistance.

Bonnie had finally remembered me. She had finally remembered my birthday.

But it was too late.

Everything was too late.

Bonnie, I thought, staring at her from the void. I can't wait for you to come back. And I certainly can't wait for your confession.

At that exact moment, the call connected.

A ringtone—one that hadn't been heard in days—pierced the air.

It didn't come from a pocket or a bag. It came from the ruined corpse lying in the mud.