I've loved my husband for five years, but he's never reciprocated my feelings. In fact, on the day after my death, he runs straight into his true love's arms.

During my absence, he sneers and says, "She's up to her old tricks again."

When he receives a call telling him to identify my body, he's excited. He thinks he can see my reaction to having my scheme exposed.

He doesn't know that I'm long dead, though.

The clock ticked away and struck right at midnight.

I stared at the sky-blue cake that was melting on the table. The only candle on it had burned out.

That marked the end of my lonely 25th birthday. I slowly made my way to the table and stared at the forgotten cake. Finally, I dug a piece of it with my index finger and stuffed it into my mouth.

"Happy birthday," I whispered to myself.

After that, I dumped the entire cake into the trashcan without hesitation.

Owen Mancini finally came home late after midnight. I watched him enter from the hallway. I said, "You're home."

He cast an indifferent look at me before frowning disapprovingly. "Don't you have anything better to do aside from drinking?"

I swirled the wine in my glass and let out a soft chuckle. "Drinking is a pretty serious matter."

I staggered over to him. "Alcohol is great. Come on. Have a sip too…" I pushed the glass to his lips and looked at him with glazed eyes. "Come on. Try it!"

Owen squinted at me and shook my hand off. "You should go to bed."

His movement was so forceful that I nearly crashed to the ground. I spilled half of the red wine in the glass.

The sudden movement made me sober up. I set down my glass and turned around to flash a calm smile at him.

I said to him, "It's my birthday."

He looked taken aback, but he quickly recovered.

I let out a sigh. "Since it's my birthday, there should be gifts. If you're not buying anything for me, how about I give you a gift instead?"

While speaking, I pulled out a document from the drawer next to the couch and handed it to him. "A gift for you."

Owen's eyes swept past the cover of the document. He frowned when he realized I handed him the divorce papers.

He questioned me calmly, "What trick are you pulling this time?"

"I'm sorry my late dad forced you to marry me. Aren't you pining after your first love? Go. Look for her." I stuffed the papers into his hand. Before he could react, I kissed him on tiptoe.

Moments later, he shoved me away. This time, I felt the throbbing pain from the collision with the ground.

Owen hadn't expected that I would crash to the floor. He stood there with a frown without helping me up.

Enduring the dull pain in my arm, I shut my eyes in despair. "Our marriage is a failure. Looks like we aren't made for each other."

He still sounded indifferent. "Had you thought about that earlier, we wouldn't have suffered until now."

"It's my fault." I forced a smile. "I guess I could only make amends with my life."

He smirked cruelly. "Really? Will you?"

After a brief pause, I spoke in a lower voice, "If I die, I will not love you in my next life."

"Maybe you should talk about that when you're dead for good." He looked away and left, slamming the door behind him.

He had left our home again.

The smile vanished from my face. Holding my hurting arm, I scrambled up from the floor, thinking, "So, he still hates me as much as before."

I settled on the couch with a bitter smile and pulled out another document from the drawer—a health check report this time.

The heavy diagnosis—late-stage cancer—was printed on the last page of the report. I closed my eyes for a while. When I reopened my eyes, I tore the report up.

Bits and pieces of the report were scattered across the floor. Staring at the wedding ring on my ring finger, I gently rubbed it with my fingertips.

Eventually, I removed it from my finger and placed it on the tabletop.

…

The next morning, I gathered all my belongings and threw them into my car. I left the villa without breakfast.

I drove all the way out of the city and onto the freeway.

Rolling down the windows, I squinted when the chilly ocean breeze hit my face. I stared right at the sun.

"Goodbye for good, Owen Mancini."

I turned on the right signal and let go of the steering wheel. I stepped on the gas, and the car drove into the cliff on the right at great speed.

The bumper was badly destroyed. Blood seeped out from the driver's seat.

Although I had died in the crash, my spirit continued to wander around. At first, I thought I could finally be free of Owen after I died, but for some reason, my ghost lingered around him.

…

I wandered to Owen's office on the 16th floor of Globestar Inc. building. I saw his secretary, Jessie Tucker, arriving early at work. She made a cup of coffee and entered his office. I followed along.

"Mr. Mancini, you have a Zoom meeting with Wiles Group at 9:30 am. The relevant materials have been placed on your table."

Owen pinched his forehead and grunted softly. At that moment, I noticed something missing from his finger—the wedding ring.

What was left on the ring finger on his right hand was a red mark.

Then, I thought to myself, "That makes sense, though. Why wear the ring when we're divorced?"

I touched my heart and, for a moment, struggled to breathe. I never thought the dead would have feelings.

Nearing noon, I habitually checked the time. For five years, I delivered lunch to Owen's office without fail every day.

However, today was an exception.

Jessie, who had noticed the break in routine, quickly ordered food delivery for her boss. 30 minutes later, the food arrived.

"Mr. Mancini, please have lunch first." She placed the food on his table and left his office.

10 minutes later, Owen was done with work and grabbed his lunch. He frowned after taking a bite. He must have noticed the difference in taste.

He took a few bites and cast the lunchbox aside.

Later that day, his phone on the table buzzed.

I stole a glance and spotted a familiar name on the screen. Not looking away from his documents once, he answered the call.

"Owen, are you done with work?"

He lowered his gaze and smiled when he saw the name on the screen. "Soon."

"Let's have dinner tonight."

Staring at the documents on his table, he replied softly, "Sure."

He worked faster and finished reading the documents requiring his attention. After that, he left for the Hillington Hotel.

…

Upon spotting Owen's car from afar, Sonya Hamilton straightened her dress and smiled as she waited for him to get out.

"Hi, Owen."

He handed over his car keys to the valet and approached her.

"Have you waited for long?"

Sonya held his arm naturally and whispered, "No. I just arrived too."

Owen's arm stiffened upon contact, but he quickly relaxed. The pair walked into a restaurant on the third floor of the Hillington Hotel.

Acting gentlemanly, Owen pulled out the chair for Sonya before ordering a few of her favorite dishes.

The sight was ironic because he had never done all this for me. Every time I eagerly cooked for him and anticipated his feedback, he would reply coldly, "Marcie Sawyer, don't you ever feel ashamed of yourself? Just save the effort."

Seemingly in a good mood, Sonya had a smile on her face throughout dinner. Once the exquisite dishes were served, she dined with impeccable manners, occasionally placing some food on Owen's plate.

Owen looked up at her with concern. "Are you feeling better?"

Apparently, he was capable of expressing care to anyone except for me.

She gracefully cut the steak on her plate and replied softly, "I'm doing much better. It's just that I have gastric issues, but it's been there for a while. It won't flare up as long as I take my meals on time."

"If my memory serves me correctly, you didn't have gastric issues back in college."

Sonya paused for a moment. Smiling, she met his eyes and explained, "Well, it was all because you took great care of me."

His eyes flickered. "Does your man not take good care of you?"

Sonya set her fork and knife on the table with a serious face. "Marcie has taken you away from me for five years. And I forced myself to date another man for five years.

"But both of us know that love cannot be forced. We are deeply in love with each other. Had Marcie not forced her way in, we could have stayed together five years ago."

I thought to myself, "Yeah, right. It's all my fault, I guess. But I'm dead now, and you have my blessing."

Owen seemed to recall the terrible memories from five years ago because his face darkened. "I wronged you."

Sonya got up and walked over to him. Bending over, she circled her arms around his neck. "No, you have nothing to apologize for. It's Marcie and her dad who forced you into that relationship against your will. We had neither the power nor the status to fight them."

Her gaze traveled from his eyes all the way to his lips. Then, she slowly kissed him.

In a split second, he instinctively turned his face sideways to shun the kiss.

I mused, "Did he happen to remember my words?"

I had told him not to betray me after marriage and that he was not to hug or kiss anyone of the opposite sex other than me.

Shaking my head, I thought I was being delusional. Owen would never care what I had said to him.

Sonya's expression froze. She bit her lip before standing up straight in disappointment. "Sorry for crossing the line. For a moment, I forgot you're a married man."

"We got divorced," revealed Owen while habitually touching his ring finger on his left hand.

The wedding ring he had worn for five years was no longer there, leaving behind only the mark from years of wearing it.

Sonya feigned a shocked face. "Is that true? Did you get a divorce?"

Still, I briefly caught a glimpse of Sonya trying hard to suppress a smile.

Owen stood up and helped her back to her seat. He confirmed gently, "Yeah, we got a divorce."

She covered his hands with a bright smile. "That's awesome. Owen, you don't have to force yourself to stay by her side anymore!"

Holding his hand firmly, she decided, "This is great news. Let's celebrate."

Yet, Owen brushed it off nonchalantly. "Nah, it's not a big deal. There's no need to celebrate."

"Of course we need to!" She cooed, "I've been waiting for this day for five years. Just celebrate it for my sake!"

Owen saw the radiant smile on her face. Reluctant to let her down, he allowed her to do whatever she wished.

On the eighth floor of the Hillington Hotel was a luxury nightclub, frequented by infamous playboys of Alburton City in search of excitement and thrill.

After dinner, Sonya led Owen to the nightclub. My spirit tagged along as if it was out of my control. It wasn't my wish to watch their PDA.

When we arrived on the eighth floor, they ran into Owen's friends, who were having some drinks. Without hesitation, Sonya dragged Owen to the private lounge occupied by his friends.

Deafening music could be heard from the lounge. Sonya had almost pressed her entire body against Owen. She held his arm firmly as though proclaiming that he was her man.

Owen's friends goaded him to drink and wouldn't stop filling up his glass. In the end, he was too drunk to stand.

Heavy in the head, he squinted at his wristwatch and mumbled, "It's midnight. I have to go home. Marcie makes a fuss when I'm home late."

"Marcie's always on my back. It's freaking annoying!"

Sonya, who was beside Owen, seemed to have heard him talking to himself.

Looking surly, she wrapped her arms around his thin waist. In a tender voice, she coaxed him, "Owen, you have gotten a divorce. No one will tell you what to do now. So, forget those promises of not drinking and getting home early."

"Am I divorced?" Eyes closed, he chuckled. "Right. Marcie and I are divorced…"

I watched his happy expression, thinking, "I've loved him for many years, but I never received his affection in return."

He staggered around the room and mindlessly took a glass of wine someone handed him. He swigged the contents. Drops of the liquid streamed down from his lips to his neck.

Sonya bit her lip at Owen's sensual and seductive presence.

"Alright now." She interfered at the right time, intercepting the alcohol that others had extended to Owen. "We'll call it a night. Owen's drunk. I'll take him with me to get some rest."

With that, she helped Owen out of the lounge.

They slowly walked out of the lounge in silence and took the elevator to the 60th floor.

"Be careful, Owen." She helped him to one of the rooms and unlocked the door with a room card she had prepared.

"Here. Get into the room now."

Did fate cruelly condemn me to witness their intimacy?

Once they got into the room, she made him lie in bed. Right as she was about to remove his jacket, he sat up without warning and pushed her away. His deep eyes betrayed no emotions.

Taken aback, Sonya asked cautiously, "What's wrong?"

"I'll get myself another room." Owen got up and swayed, nearly losing his footing. He stumbled all the way to the door and happened to collide with the hotel manager who had walked down the corridor.

He told the hotel manager to get him a room and walked into the new room, after which he closed the door.

His behavior confused me. And I thought he had been waiting for this day forever—a night with Sonya.

The look in Sonya's eyes turned frosty and resulted in resentment. She muttered, "Why is he saving himself for that woman after they are divorced?"

…

The next morning, Sonya put behind the disappointment from last night and put on a perfect smile. Looking energetic, she held Owen's arm and took the elevator to the lobby from the 60th floor.

When we arrived at the lobby, we ran into a familiar face.

Standing in the busy crowds in the opulent lobby, Sonya smiled at someone in the distance while holding onto Owen.

She was staring at the hotel manager, who was also my childhood friend—Bianca Sanchez.

When I saw Bianca, I ran toward her in excitement, eager to spill the tea, but my spirit passed through her.

It wasn't until that moment I dolefully realized I was dead for good.

Bianca wore a professional suit and stood afar, her back straight. She cast an unfriendly look at the couple before her, who were leaning into each other.

With a smirk, she taunted, "Mr. Mancini, you're a lucky man. You have a wife at home and a harem out here. You must be having a lot of fun.

"But it's not healthy to have too much fun. I wonder if you'll struggle to keep up."

Owen stared at Bianca sternly without a word.

No longer smiling, Sonya took a step forward and stood in front of Owen like his protector. "Bianca Sanchez, this is between me, Owen, and his wife. It's not your place to comment.

"Five years ago, Marcie forced Owen to marry her with the backing of her powerful family. Owen and I wouldn't have separated if it weren't for her obsession with him.

"Had she not insisted on getting married, Owen wouldn't have been the subject of gossip in Alburton City and had his reputation ruined."

Bianca shot Sonya a caustic look. "What do you mean by ruined reputation? Do you mean they're calling him a kept man—or a heartless man?"

"Shut up!" Sonya glowered at Bianca. "I know what kind of person Owen is. You don't have the right to slander him!"

"That's really rich coming from his mistress!"

Sonya snapped at Bianca, "Owen and I knew each other before Marcie came between us. She's the relationship wrecker!"

"Is that so?" Bianca laughed disdainfully. "But I remember it differently. I thought you had dumped him for a richer guy."

Sonya glanced at Owen with guilt and quickly explained, "I wouldn't have left Owen if Marcie hadn't come between us."

Bianca sneered. "I think you got the chronology wrong."

Even a pet of five years would form a bond with its owner. But I gave Owen my everything for five years and still failed to win his heart.

Bianca didn't even look at Sonya. She shot Owen a sarcastic look. "I really hope you didn't fall in love with Marcie for real, or you'd regret it so badly when you realized what you've lost!"

I watched my best friend defend me in front of the cheaters. The thought of Bianca breaking down before my body at the hospital morgue filled me with sadness. I wanted to tell her not to waste any more time on Owen because he wasn't worth it.

Alas, Bianca was so furious at that moment that she might rip them into pieces.

I knew she felt indignant and mad at me for falling in love with him. She hated Owen for his ignorance.

Owen met Bianca's eyes and replied in a low voice, "I don't love her."

Bianca chuckled coldly. "I hope you'll remember what you said today. You'd better not regret it for the rest of your life."

After dropping the frosty remark, she left without hesitation.

…

Owen sent Sonya back to her apartment before driving back to work. He was as busy as usual in the office.

The hangover gave him a headache. After the meeting, he enjoyed a short break, during which he told Jessie to bring him a double-shot coffee.

While waiting for his drink, he scrolled through his personal phone. He hadn't received any new updates since last night.

I drifted over to his side and read the contents. I saw a text from Sonya again, inviting him to dinner.

He wrote back, giving her a rain check with the excuse of having something arranged tonight.

After that, he looked through all his messages and the call history. He seemed to be searching for something. What exactly was he expecting?

He lowered his gaze in silence. At the same time, Jessie came in with a cup of coffee.

"Mr. Mancini, coffee's ready."

He grunted, taking one last look at his phone. Then, he turned to Jessie and asked casually, "Did Marcie call?"