Chapter 2

2

When my mother-in-law, Beatrice, arrived clutching her cane, she looked at Donovan with pure disappointment.

"If it weren't for you, Lila and I would have been happy years ago. Are you trying to ruin us again?" Donovan snapped.

Beatrice's face was cold. "Where is your wife, Mina?"

Donovan shrugged, his tone casual and uncaring.

"She just got a few scratches. She's probably out hooking up with someone. She's wanted to dump me and Chloe for a long time anyway."

I let out a hollow, ghostly laugh.

The System had told Donovan that after the heart transplant, I would recover and be fine.

He actually believed such a pathetic lie.

Beatrice's hand shook with rage as she raised it to strike him.

But she stopped herself, her eyes filling with a deep, tragic pity.

"Donovan, I'm so sorry for what I've done to you," she whispered.

I stared at the old woman as she slumped over.

If it weren't for her, the nightmare of my marriage to Donovan never would have started.

I was an orphan who worked my way through college.

Beatrice had been my professor back then, and she had sponsored my tuition.

She had only one condition: I had to marry her son.

I agreed.

At the time, Donovan was charming and sweet.

He celebrated the birthdays I had always spent alone and made me warm soup when I came home from work.

I had finally tasted the warmth of a home, and I fell for him completely.

I did all the housework, worked late, and handed over every single paycheck.

People called me a pushover, but I didn't care.

I just wanted to learn how to cook his favorite meals.

But he started staying out late, and I soon discovered Lila's existence.

I wanted a divorce, but then I found out I was pregnant.

Looking at Chloe's tiny, wrinkled face, I buried my resentment deep in my heart.

I told myself we could just keep going like this.

But fate is a cruel joke.

I died, and I was forced to leave everyone I loved.

I had to watch Beatrice take my blind daughter away, unable to even reach out and touch them.

That night, I followed Donovan back to our house.

"Mina, get me a glass of water," he called out habitually.

We both froze at the same time.

Donovan's breathing hitched as he went around the house, turning on every single light.

I mocked myself.

Even as a ghost, my first instinct had been to move toward the kitchen for him.

Suddenly, he stopped, his eyes fixed on the divorce papers sitting on the coffee table.

Yes, I had wanted to leave him.

Before the accident, we had fought about it, but he'd mocked me, saying I was too weak to ever actually walk away.

He didn't realize that this time, I meant it.

Donovan gritted his teeth and dialed my number.

But my body and all my belongings had been dumped into the ocean by the System.

The call would never go through.

He gripped his phone until his knuckles turned white and left a voicemail.

"Mina Sterling, if you ever want to see your daughter again, get your ass back here. If anyone's filing for divorce, it's going to be me."

His face was flushed with anger as he paced the room.

I had never ignored his calls before.

He unconsciously twisted the wedding ring on his finger.

He looked like he wanted to rip it off, but instead, he shoved it further down.

I was stunned.

Was he really this angry about the divorce?

And why was he still wearing the ring? I had already taken mine off.

Donovan didn't sleep a wink that night.

He spent the hours either twisting his ring or staring at his phone.

As the first light of dawn broke, he made a pot of soup and rushed back to the hospital.