After being out of contact for a month, my wife finally remembered me.

'Mason's still one song short. Bring me that score of yours.'

But this time, she never received a reply from me again.

Mason tried to persuade her carefully. "Vega, forget it. Maybe I'm just not meant for this award. Don't fall out with Blaine because of me."

Vega reassured him that I was only sulking. Then she went home, found my score, and handed it to Mason, thinking she could explain everything to me once I came back.

But she never got the chance.

I had been by her side the whole time—she just could not see me anymore.

It's Just One Song

The day I left that house was the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Vega Winslow. It also happened to be the birthday of the childhood friend who had grown up by her side.

I had already prepared everything for our anniversary a week in advance. I had flown in her favorite flowers from overseas and bought a diamond ring for her.

Nine carats. Her lucky number.

But just as everything was ready, Vega called first and told me she had work at the company that night.

"I'll wait for you at home then. I've prepared—"

"No need. Rest early." Vega cut me off impatiently.

Perhaps she realized her tone had been too abrupt, because she lowered her voice and added, "Something urgent came up at the company. I don't have a choice. Can you try to understand?"

Before I could answer, she hung up.

Maybe she had not even noticed it herself, but every time she lied, her voice grew noticeably irritable.

It was Mason Corbett's birthday that day.

Back then, to support Mason's acting career, Vega had spent a fortune pushing him into the entertainment industry. But the company didn't belong to her alone, and that decision had upset many shareholders.

She did not care.

At the time, I had fought with her over it. Vega had simply told me to be more tolerant. "Can you stop being so jealous? He's just my childhood friend. If there was anything between us, you wouldn't even be in this picture!'"

She dismissed my words as if they did not matter.

In the five years of our marriage, Vega had often rushed out in the middle of the night to Mason's place the moment his assistant called.

She would say, "Mason's a germaphobe. He doesn't like being touched by others." So she went herself because he was willing to let her touch him.

Even the child I had waited for with all my heart was lost while she was on her way to see him.

That so-called childhood friend mattered far more to her than I ever did. More than me, the husband who was supposed to spend the rest of his life with her.

And this time was no exception.

During a dinner with the director of his new drama, Mason had casually sung a song, and someone recorded it. The problem was that the song belonged to a popular singer in the industry. It had not even been released yet, and Mason had leaked it ahead of time.

The incident exploded online. Fans flooded the internet, accusing Mason of ruining someone else's hard work. It was supposed to be the highlight track for the singer's debut anniversary.

Vega contacted the singer privately and, through a mix of pressure and incentives, got him to post a clarification for Mason on social media.

And the price? The score of a new piece I had written. She had taken it straight from my computer and handed it over to that singer without my consent.

She knew perfectly well that I had not been able to compose anything new for a long time. My inspiration had run dry, and that piece had been my lifeline. But for Mason, just because of one drunken mistake, she made me bear the consequences.

That day, I lost control and smashed everything in the house. I tore down our wedding photo from the wall and ripped it to shreds.

Vega sat on the sofa the entire time, watching me like I was insane. "It's just one song. You can write another one. This is a critical period for Mason's transition—we can't afford a mistake like this."

A bitter ache spread through my chest as I listened to the blatant favoritism in her voice. I grabbed my keys and fled that place that had become nothing but pain.

Almost at the same moment, Vega's cold, disgusted voice rang out behind me.

"If you walk out that door, don't bother coming back."

If You Had to Choose

Vega had been right. Once I walked out that door, I truly never made it back.

I had been wandering along the seaside when I ran into a group of robbers. Outnumbered, I had no chance to fight back. They forced me against the rocks by the shore.

Then they found the diamond ring I had not yet gotten the chance to give Vega. I tried to resist, but in the next second, one of them picked up a rock and smashed it against my head.

When they threw me into the sea, I was only unconscious. But I was so out cold that I could only let the seawater flood into my nose and lungs. And just like that, I died—on the very day of my wedding anniversary with Vega.

Yet, for some reason, I did not immediately go to the afterlife.

When I opened my eyes again, my soul remained by Vega's side. I watched as she poured all her energy into Mason's career, channeling every resource she could into him.

All because he had once said, “My dream has always been to become a singer.” For that dream, Vega spent enormous sums buying songs from renowned composers in the industry for Mason to perform.

At a rare high-profile industry gala, Mason invited Vega to attend as his companion. She hesitated at first, but eventually gave in to his repeated requests.

On the red carpet, Mason extended his hand, signaling for Vega to take his arm. Under the flashing lights, she avoided it as if she had not seen him at all. Instead, her gaze landed on the diamond watch on his wrist.

It was the gift Vega had given me for our third wedding anniversary.

I had always thought it was too expensive, and since I frequently handled musical instruments, I had left it untouched. I never expected that the moment I was gone, it would end up on Mason’s wrist.

"Mason, how did that watch end up with you?"

Mason put on an innocent expression and glanced down at it. "Blaine gave it to me. He said I have a lot of important events now, so I need something valuable to hold my ground.”

The smile on Vega's face vanished instantly.

Seeing her reaction, Mason made a show of taking the watch off while apologizing. But Vega stopped him. "Since he gave it to you, keep it."

Mason agreed and straightened the watch on his wrist without actually removing it.

He was clearly lying. He had taken it himself.

Because Vega was often not home whenever Mason came looking for her, she had given him a key to the house. And it became the perfect catalyst for him to gradually take my things over the years.

But every time I brought it up, Vega dismissed it as making a fuss over nothing, saying something like, "If he likes it, just let him have it. I'll buy you another," or "Why do you have to argue with him over something so trivial?"

After hearing it enough times, even she grew impatient with me, and I stopped mentioning it altogether.

In front of Mason, they looked more like husband and wife. As for me, I felt like nothing more than an unwelcome housekeeper.

At this gala, with Vega by his side, Mason carried himself as if he were the host. Opportunities that he could never obtain on his own now came knocking at his door.

But my thoughts were elsewhere. My wedding ring had been kept together with that watch. Had he taken that too?

…

After the gala ended, Vega declined Mason's offer and returned home alone.

Perhaps because she had drunk quite a bit, she kept muttering to herself in the car. "I was only speaking out of anger… how could you really not come back? I was just upset. It's not like I don't love you."

The chauffeur in the front seat could not bear listening any longer and tried to comfort her. "Ms. Winslow, young couples argue all the time. To make a life together, someone has to give in first. That's how things work."

Vega let out a soft scoff. "Give in? If anyone's giving in, it's him. I didn't do anything wrong. He's the heartless one. He even smashed our wedding photo."

I sat beside her, watching through the rearview mirror as the chauffeur shook his head, sighing under his breath.

Still drunk, Vega grabbed the seat in front of her and continued, "Mason and I grew up together. When we were kids, he almost died saving me from the sea. With that kind of debt, shouldn't I treat him well?"

"What if you had to choose between them?" the chauffeur could not help asking.

Vega paused, staring out the window in silence for a long time. Just when I thought she would not answer, she finally spoke. "Blaine loves me more than anyone else in the world. He… he'll understand. When he comes back, I'll explain everything to him."

That was all that it took to make my blood run cold.

He Might Not Even Be Good

In the days that followed, Vega went through her routine as usual.

She went to work. She came home. It was as if my disappearance had not affected her at all. Yet, the way she occasionally stared blankly at her phone betrayed her.

Every time it rang, no matter what she was doing, she would immediately stop and check it. And every time, disappointment followed.

After a while, even Mason noticed something was off. "Who are you waiting for? Blaine?"

Vega frowned slightly and set her phone down without looking at him, but the pen in her hand did not move for a long time.

As if he understood everything, Mason lounged lazily on the sofa, his gaze drifting toward her. "Jayden said he saw him in Caelmont State when he went there the other day. Didn't Blaine always want to go there? My guess? He went there to clear his head after your argument."

At that, he put on a feigned guilt-ridden expression. "It's my fault. If it weren't for me, you two wouldn't have fought. Maybe we shouldn't stay in contact anymore."

Vega immediately refuted him, insisting that what happened between us had nothing to do with him.

Standing beside her, I could not help but feel a bitter irony. Every word coming out of that man's mouth was a lie, yet the woman who had been married to me for five years could not see through a single one of them, simply because she trusted him from the bottom of her heart.

I found myself wondering. If one day Vega discovered that Mason had been lying all along, and that I was already dead, would she hate him for my sake?

But the thought barely formed before I shook my head.

How could she ever hate Mason because of me?

…

As dinner time approached, Mason invited Vega out for a meal, but she hesitated.

"You still haven't thanked me for what happened last time," he said. "Don't tell me a big boss like you would refuse even a dinner invitation."

With that, Vega had no excuse left.

But if anyone deserved that meal, it should have been me. After all, what he had taken was my work.

…

At the table, Mason kept placing food onto Vega's plate.

Vega had always been a germaphobe. When eating out, she strictly used serving cutlery. But everything Mason placed on her plate using his cutlery, she ate without hesitation.

So her germaphobia came with exceptions.

Midway through the meal, Mason glanced at her before speaking. "Blaine's compositions are widely recognized as top-tier. If my new drama could have one of his songs as the theme, it'd already be halfway to success."

His gaze stayed fixed on Vega, waiting for her response.

She knew that I had not composed anything in a long time. The one recent piece I had poured my heart into had already been taken by her and given away under Mason's name.

"He's not in town right now. You should just have someone else write it—it's all the same," she said, but perhaps unwilling to reject him outright, Vega added, "Blaine hasn't written anything in a long time. What he gives you might not even be good. I'll find someone better for you."

Sitting beside her, I almost laughed in anger.

Did refusing Mason really require belittling me like that?

Mason seemed satisfied and nodded with a smile, then continued, "Then maybe Blaine can introduce me to a composer he knows. He's one of the best in the industry. He must have connections to plenty of top talents."

It was a reasonable suggestion, and Vega agreed almost without hesitation. Right in front of Mason, she pulled out her phone and called me.

Once. Twice.

No one answered.