Chapter 1

On the third day after my death, the police dialed Vivienne's number: "This is the forensics department of the police station. Our condolences, the body matches your boyfriend's description..."

She was lounging in her new lover's arms, eating cherries. Her languid voice came through, wrapped in static.

"Fintan? We broke up ages ago. Just cremate him or whatever."

As the incinerator consumed the last bit of my skin, the on-duty officer called again.

"Miss Langdon, we need a family member to sign for the urn."

"What a hassle." She rushed to the funeral home, trampling on my ashes, her crystal nails tapping on the ceramic container.

The next moment, she actually scattered my ashes!

"Still putting on an act, aren't you? Aren't you tired?"

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1

I'd been floating on the funeral home ceiling for two hours already.

When Vivienne burst in, her lipstick was smeared down to her chin.

She hastily wiped her face and sneered at the staff: "Where's Fintan's ashes? Weren't you supposed to let family members collect them?"

As the worker handed over the black box, she suddenly dug her nails into the lid to open it.

I was so startled I wanted to lunge forward—although I was already just a pile of ash, the moment her fingertips touched me, my soul reflexively ached.

"Is this really him?" She pinched some ash and held it up to the light. "You're not just fooling me with some limestone, are you?"Fire cremation records can be checked......"

"No need." She slammed the lid shut, "That piece of trash deserves to rot in hell anyway."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Only after becoming a ghost did I learn that without burial, one can't be reincarnated. Surely this crazy woman, no matter how much she hated me, wouldn't go that far...

The urn suddenly crashed to the floor. I watched helplessly as my ashes mixed into the cracks between the tiles. Vivienne ground the ashes with the tip of her shoe, sneering, "My hand slipped."

"Miss Langdon!"

"Tell Fintan," she cut off the staff member's shocked cry.

"My mother's death anniversary is in a few days. If he doesn't crawl to her grave and kowtow—" Her high heels viciously crushed the last bit of ashes.

"Even if he's dead, I'll dig him up from the grave and whip his corpse."

Suddenly, her phone rang.

When Levi's voice came through the car's Bluetooth, I was stuck motionless by her side.

For some reason, I seemed to have lost control over my own soul.

"I heard Fintan died?"

"Probably fake news," Vivienne steered with one hand, "That bastard's best at playing the victim."

"But what if he really is dead?The rearview mirror reflected her curled red lips. "Then I'll book every billboard in the city to play your obituary on loop, and set off fireworks for three days and nights to celebrate."

The tires screeched in protest. I gripped an imaginary seatbelt, suddenly reminded of her 20th birthday. We were crammed in a tiny apartment eating ramen, and she insisted on sticking the candle in her beef noodle soup.

"Fintan, if you dare die before me," she leaned in to nibble my ear, "I'll mix your ashes into water and drink them. That's the only way we'll truly be together forever."

Now my ashes were actually on the floor mat in her backseat, mingled with cigarette ash.

The phone rang again. Levi cautiously asked, "The old man wants to know about next week's family dinner..."

"We broke up," she replied breezily. "Last month, in fact."

My spirit nearly shattered. Broke up? But we...

A memory suddenly flashed back to the hospital hallway. I had just finished vomiting blood when I overheard her on the phone in the stairwell: "Yes, the engagement is still on... Stage 4 liver cancer? How long does he have?"

At the time, I thought it was just a chemo-induced hallucination.