Chapter 1

Chapter 1

On the day of my husband's ten-year anniversary pact with his childhood sweetheart, I had a fatal heart attack.

I begged him to take me to the hospital.

Instead, he looked at me with pure disgust and sneered. "Wren, can you stop using these pathetic tricks to get my attention?"

"A selfish, narrow-minded person like you would be doing the world a favor if you actually kicked the bucket."

Later, when he returned from his date and found my cold, lifeless body, he knelt and wept, begging me for just one more look.

I died. It was a massive heart attack.

The feeling of my heart suffocating remains etched in my mind, making my soul tremble even now.

For some reason, I didn't move on. I became a ghost, tethered to my husband, Zane.

Zane was wearing a crisp white shirt, his handsome face lit up with a smile as he chatted with the woman across from him.

"Jianna, are you planning to stay in the States for good this time? Are you moving your career back here?"

The woman, Jianna, smiled back warmly. Her eyes were full of a quiet, predatory confidence.

"Yes. There's someone here I just can't let go of."

Zane's cheeks flushed a deep red. Looking at them, there was nothing left to wonder about.

It felt like an invisible hand was squeezing my non-existent heart. Sharp, phantom pains flooded my spirit.

I knew this woman. Jianna was Zane's childhood sweetheart, the one he could never truly forget.

I watched Zane with bitterness, but the tenderness in his expression was what really cut me deep.

We had been married for five years. He had always been distant, and I had foolishly assumed it was just his personality.

Now I realized he just didn't want to be tender with me.

With me, he was always cold and composed. We were more like roommates than a married couple.

Jianna curled her lips into a smile. "Thank you, Zane. Thank you for coming to see me and for remembering our ten-year promise."

Zane's smile widened. "Jianna, we made a pact. Even if the world were ending, I wouldn't stand you up on this day."

With those words, they shared a tight, lingering embrace.

He was a completely different man from the stoic husband I knew at home.

It was as if Jianna's return had breathed color back into his soul.

Even though my heart had stopped beating, I felt a swarm of stinging needles in my chest.

So this was the "urgent matter" he had to attend to. He didn't hesitate to slam the door on me while I was collapsing on the floor.

That morning, my chest had felt tight. I leaned against the sofa, drenched in a cold sweat, eventually becoming paralyzed by the pain.

Zane had finished getting ready, his leather shoes clicking sharply on the hardwood floor as he walked out of the bedroom.

I weakly gasped for help. He poured me a glass of lukewarm water, tossed two boxes of pills on the table, and turned to leave.

I couldn't breathe, let alone speak, but I managed to grab his sleeve with a pleading look.

Zane simply peeled my fingers off, his voice flat and indifferent.

"I have a very important meeting today. You've had heart issues for years; just take your meds and lie down."

I exhaled a ragged breath, trying one last time. "Zane… I… I really don't feel right."

He frowned, his eyes flashing with irritation.

"Enough! Wren, since when did you learn to play the victim like this? I told you I have something important. Stop acting out."

With that, he slammed the door and left without a backward glance.

I watched his shadow disappear, and the last shred of my hope collapsed.

I fell to the floor. The pain didn't subside with the medication; it became a drilling, agonizing torture.

I struggled to prop myself up and reached for my phone on the coffee table to call 911.

Sadly, I didn't last long enough for the ambulance to arrive. I took my last breath in that empty living room.

Now that I'm dead, I suppose Zane can finally be with Jianna without any obstacles.