I died in the year my husband hated me most.

Unable to endure his endless silent treatment any longer, I swallowed a bottle of pills and ended my life.

At the crematorium, watching the flames roar inside the furnace, he allowed himself a rare smile.

“Someone as vile as her doesn’t deserve to be laid to rest whole.”

So when the staff handed him the urn, he flipped it over.

My ashes scattered across the floor in an instant.

All this time, he had believed I was responsible for the death of his first love.

That belief was why he had schemed and plotted for years, all for this precise moment of final desecration.

When it was over, he stepped over my ashes and walked away without looking back.

Though not long after that, he fell to his knees and begged the crematorium to give my ashes back to him.

When the news of my death came in, Dan Fanning was signing a contract worth eight figures.

His assistant rushed into his office with a serious expression.

“Mr. Fanning, your wife has passed away.”

The pen paused on the paper. Ink bled out and stained the page.

Dan slowly looked up. “She’s dead?”

“Yes. The police believe it was suicide.”

The room suddenly fell into a suffocating stillness.

Dan was silent for a few seconds before sinking into his chair as if all the strength had left him. He let out a long sigh.

I drifted closer. To my surprise, his eyes were a little moist.

The light of the setting sun fell across his face and cast him in that familiar light I used to love so much.

However, why was he crying? Were those happy tears?

After all, he had waited so many years for this. He had finally avenged Evelyn Wright.

Evelyn was his first love.

Back in college, they were the golden couple everyone envied.

Meanwhile, I was just the useless coward standing in the background with a silent crush on him.

I thought that secret would be buried with me, but later on, Evelyn was diagnosed with a terminal illness.

She did not want to become a burden. So, she came to me behind his back.

Evelyn said she could tell just by the way I looked at him that my love was unconditional and selfless.

She asked me to look after him and help him through the worst of it after she was gone.

She chose to disappear to a place no one knew and waited for the end alone.

On the day she left, she did not say goodbye.

I kept Evelyn’s secret, just as I promised.

However, Dan believed I was the reason they never got to say goodbye.

He believed I must have said something to her that had driven her to that desperate end.

He pretended that he had fallen in love with me and acted as though my devotion had finally won him over.

He plotted carefully and spared no effort. He professed love even as he hollowed out my power at the company and sabotaged my ties with my family.

When there was nothing left to take, he stopped pretending and told me the truth.

He even said he had never loved me.

That was really hurtful.

When I remembered the coldness in Dan’s eyes, a dull ache spread through my chest.

When my thoughts cleared, I was already in the car with him.

Judging by the direction we were heading, it could only be the crematorium.

I did not think he would bother to see me at all.

By the time we arrived, the process had already begun.

Behind the heavy iron doors of the cremation chamber, the body that had once been warm and alive was burning fiercely.

I looked at Dan, who was standing rigid before the observation window.

He was staring into the heart of the fire with an unreadable expression.

A staff member approached and asked tentatively, “Mr. Fanning, would you like to take one last look?”

“No.” His reply was emotionless. “Just burn it thoroughly.”

A self-deprecating smile made its way to my lips. I tried to touch his face, but my hand passed straight through him.

So, this was death. Even a touch had become an impossible luxury.

I did not know how long the fire burned.

When the door finally slid open again, the person who had once weighed nearly fifty kilograms had been reduced to fragments, neatly contained in a small wooden box.

The staff member cradled the wooden urn carefully and offered it to Dan with practiced solemnity.

“Mr. Fanning, please accept our condolences.”

He did not take it. Instead, he stared at the photograph affixed to the lid for a few seconds.

It was a picture of me smiling brightly.

After I learned the real reason Dan had stayed with me, I stopped taking photos.

Even this smiling picture of me had been cropped from a photo of the two of us together.

Dan’s expression was unnervingly calm. He brushed my picture with his hand. Then, suddenly, he smiled.

“Condolences? Why would I mourn a murderer? I believe someone as vile as her doesn’t deserve to be laid to rest whole.”

As Dan said those words, a blazing hatred flashed in his eyes. He raised his hand and knocked the urn to the floor.

With a sharp crash, my ashes spilled everywhere like gray snow.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Fanning! This is my fault!”

The staff scrambled in panic to clean it up. However, Dan raised his hand to stop them.

“Don’t bother. Just sweep it up and flush it down the drain.”

Then he turned and walked away decisively and coldly.

As I watched him disappear, my heart ached as if it were being carved open with a blade.

When we had just been together, he could not even bear to see me hurt. Yet he had just spoken such hurtful words without hesitation.

Hatred really could make someone cruel.

When Dan left the crematorium, dusk had settled in.

His face was a cold mask, and his back was ramrod straight. It was as if scattering the ashes had been nothing more than an incidental gesture.

Just then, a familiar figure came rushing toward him.

It took me a moment to recognize her. It was Sarah Aison, my college roommate and best friend.

She was out of breath. There was sweat beading on her forehead. Her eyes were red, like she had been crying.

When she saw Dan, she stopped short. “What are you doing here?”

Dan frowned upon seeing her. His tone was cold. “Why are you here?”

Still catching her breath, Sarah looked at him with a complicated expression.

“I’m here to say goodbye to Emma.”

“Say goodbye?” A mocking smile touched the corner of Dan’s mouth when he heard that. “Then I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. You can’t see her anymore.”

Sarah froze. Her face was drained of color.

“What does that mean?”

Dan did not answer. He only cast her a dismissive glance, then turned to leave.

Sarah had a bad feeling about this. She ran into the crematorium.

She was just in time to see a staff member sweeping gray ash into a dustpan with a broom.

“What are you doing?”

She lunged forward and grabbed the staff member by the arm. Her voice was shaking.

Startled, the staff member stammered, “Mr. Fanning told me to…”

Sarah clenched her fists so tightly that her knuckles cracked. She whirled around and bolted back outside. She grabbed Dan just as he was about to slide into his car.

“Dan, what is wrong with you? Are you a monster? Emma gave you everything. I’ve never seen anyone love someone the way she loved you, and this is how you treat her?”

“Let go!”

Dan flung her hand off. His eyes were glinting with a cold, sharp light.

“Loved me? Right. From the day she caused Evelyn’s death, she should have known that this would be her end!”

“Nonsense!” Sarah’s eyes were blazing red. She forced the words out through clenched teeth. “Evelyn’s death had nothing to do with—”

“Shut up!”

Before she could finish, Dan shoved her hard and cut her off.

“Who do you think you are? You have no right to speak Evelyn’s name. It seems like I need to teach you some manners on Emma’s behalf.”

Dan made a gesture, and several bodyguards closed in around Sarah.

Sarah struggled and tried to say something, but the moment she opened her mouth, someone yanked her by the hair and slammed her to the ground. She let out a muffled cry and curled in on herself.

Then, fists and kicks rained down on her without pause.

“Stop! Leave her alone!”

I screamed at Dan, but he could not hear me.

I tried to stop those guards, only to watch my hands pass straight through their bodies again and again. There was nothing I could do.

“Dan, listen to me! Evelyn’s death had nothing…”

Sarah tried once more, but a bodyguard struck her hard across the face. Blood spilled instantly from the corner of her mouth.

“That’s enough! Dan, Sarah is innocent. Please let her go!”

I screamed in despair, but no one could hear me.

They beat Sarah until she was forced to curl into a tight ball, and blood was seeping from the corner of her mouth. Even so, she kept her eyes locked on Dan, as if she were trying to carve his face into her bones.

She lay there in a pool of blood. Her breathing was shallow.

“Y-You’ll regret this one day.”

“Oh? Will I?”

Dan seemed almost amused. He tilted his head and scoffed.

“Then I suppose I’ll look forward to seeing how you plan to make me regret it. But for now, you’d better worry about yourself.”

With that, his gaze turned icy. He nodded to the side and said, “Get her out of here. I don’t want this filth in my sight.”

At his command, the bodyguards grabbed Sarah by the collar and tossed her onto the roadside like a piece of trash.

I watched it all unfold, feeling powerless. My soul ached as if it were being torn apart.

Dan turned and got into the car. The door slammed shut with a dull thud.

With it, that long-buried truth was sealed away once more.

As the car pulled away, I took one last look at Sarah.

She was lying face-down on the ground. Her fingers were twitching slightly, as if she were still trying to push herself up.

An agony sharper than any blade twisted inside me, but I could not shed a single tear.

Inside the car, Dan leaned against the window. His expression was cold and distant.

Yet I saw the faint, almost imperceptible tremor in his fingers.

What was he thinking? Was it regret?

Or was the fury still not spent?

I did not know.

I only knew that even in death, the pain had not diminished at all.

As I gazed at his stern face, I could not help but murmur, “Dan, how much longer are you going to hate me?”

The news of my death spread quickly through our alumni circles and social feeds.

My old college professor, Mr. Carson, sent Dan a message. He said he had found a box of my things while cleaning out his office, including a few notebooks, a pen, some photographs, and other little trinkets.

He asked Dan if he wanted to come collect them as a keepsake.

Dan stared at his phone. His thumb hovered over the screen. He did not reply for a long time.

I hovered beside him. I was certain he would refuse.

In his eyes, I had not even deserved to have my ashes intact. What value could a box of old junk possibly hold?

However, to my surprise, after a moment of silence, he finally typed out a reply.

[Okay.]

On the weekend, he drove back to the university we had once attended together.

The campus was exactly as I remembered it. From the flagstone path beneath the sycamore trees to the students rushing up the library steps, everything seemed suspended in time.

Dan walked toward the administration building. His face was expressionless.

Yet his steps were slower than usual. His gaze drifted across the familiar scenery, as if searching for something.

When Mr. Carson saw him, he sighed and handed over a small cardboard box.

“These were Emma Dancy’s things. She always treasured them.”

Dan said nothing. He simply looked down and sifted through the contents.

There were a few notebooks. His initials were penned on the inside covers in my careful handwriting. There were some photographs. There was an assortment of little odds and ends.

“You know, Emma had a crush on you all the way back in college. For years, actually. When I heard you two had married, I was happy for her. I thought she’d finally gotten her wish. What a cruel twist of fate.”

Hearing that, Dan tightened his fingers subtly and crumpled the corner of one photograph.

An emotion flashed in his eyes. It was as if he had been stung by something.

However, in the end, he only offered a cold, noncommittal hum. He picked up the box, turned, and walked away.

I thought he would leave the campus right away, but he did not.

He walked to the lake, the very spot where I had gathered all my courage to confess my feelings to him.

That night, I stammered my way through it. When he remained silent for what felt like an eternity, I was sure I had ruined everything.

Then he suddenly chuckled.

“Why are you so bad at this? If you like me, just say it.”

He stood by the water, staring at the still surface, seeming lost in thought.

We used to walk hand in hand around the track, lap after lap.

He would always hold my hand. His smile was bright and unguarded.

Was he really happy back then?

Had it all been an act from the very beginning?

I lowered my head and drifted along beside his shadow. I watched as his steps slowed and eventually carried him into the cafeteria we used to frequent.

He ordered the burger he used to love. After only a couple of bites, he stopped.

He bent his head. His hands were trembling around the burger.

He was working hard to swallow as if there were a lump in his throat.

As I drifted to the seat across from him, I smiled bitterly to myself.

“What is it? Are you thinking of Evelyn? Do you wish she were the one sitting here instead?”

His tears fell then, sudden and fast. A choked sob escaped, one he could not quite stifle.

Then he suddenly stood up. He grabbed the box and hurried out.

His pace quickened, almost breaking into a jog by the time he reached his car.

After slamming the door shut, he took a sharp breath and buried his face in the steering wheel. His shoulders were trembling slightly.

I was stunned.

Was he crying? Was he crying for me?

However, in the next instant, I let out a wry smile.

How could he be crying for me?

He hated me so much that he could not even bear to keep my ashes. Why would he grieve over memories of me?

He must have been overwhelmed by the place and by the memories of moments he had shared with Evelyn.

After all, I was never the one he loved.