As the first light of dawn broke, my alarm rang sharply at 7 a.m., its tone heavy with the reminder: “Amniocentesis.” In the adjacent room, Matthew's deep, peaceful snoring echoed, a stark contrast to the turmoil in my heart. I paused outside his door, feeling a sharp pang of betrayal.

“Lily, don’t go!” He murmured in his sleep, each word twisting like a knife in my chest.

I clutched my suitcase tightly, a lifeline to my new beginning, and stepped out of the home that had once resonated with laughter. I hadn’t slept a wink, yet fatigue felt distant, overshadowed by a strange sensation of rebirth and liberation.

The bright lights of the operating room felt surreal as I lay on the table, the anesthesia washing over me like a warm wave. I drifted into an unsettling sleep, a peaceful escape from the chaos of my life.

When I opened my eyes again, I was startled awake by frantic voices.

“Jennifer, wake up! You can’t fall asleep! It’s dangerous; we need to notify your family immediately!”

Struggling to stay conscious, my body betrayed me, sinking deeper into a fog. Was this what it felt like to linger on the edge of death?

The doctor’s urgency intensified as he tried to rouse me, eventually snatching my phone and unlocking it with my fingerprint. He called Matthew, desperation lacing his voice.

Each ring echoed like a death knell. Matthew rejected the call again and again. My heart sank further; he was my only family, yet he felt galaxies away.

As the situation grew critical, the doctor persisted. After a relentless series of calls, Matthew finally picked up on the 21st attempt. But before the doctor could explain, Matthew’s cold, irritated voice pierced through the line.

“Jennifer, what game are you playing now? I’m in a meeting!”

“Hello, is this Jennifer’s husband?” the doctor interjected quickly. “She’s in critical condition at the hospital, and we need—”

“Enough!” Matthew barked, dismissing the urgency with a wave of his hand. “Are you doctors in on her charade now too? If you dare deceive me again, you’ll all lose your jobs!”

From his end, a flirtatious voice chimed in, “Ah! You’re pulling out already?”

With that, my number was blocked, sealing my fate.

A piercing pain shot through my heart. I watched my own body lying still on the operating table, my fingers twitching faintly. The machine’s alarm blared ominously, signaling dangerously low oxygen levels in my blood.

The doctor worked frantically to save me, but I was done fighting. The weight of my suffering felt too heavy, and I yearned for release.

Finally, the monitor’s line went flat. The surgeon shook his head, bowing deeply to my lifeless form, his eyes filled with regret.

I felt no blame; perhaps I was simply too exhausted. My spirit floated free, liberated from my torment. I drifted aimlessly, unshackled from the memories that had haunted me.

But still, the scars of my past clung to my soul, etched deeply from my time with Matthew.

In the cold, sterile morgue, I should have felt at peace, finally free from suffering. Yet, as I reached for the inviting glow of that otherworldly light, an invisible force yanked me back, refusing to let me go.

I was drawn instead to Matthew’s side. He sat in a dentist’s waiting room, holding Lily close as she trembled with fear.

“Ah, Matthew, I’m scared…” Her voice was delicate, quivering like a fragile leaf.

Matthew tightened his embrace, his tone soothing yet firm. “Lily, don’t be afraid. It’s just a tooth extraction. Once the anesthesia kicks in, you won’t feel a thing.”

She looked up at him, a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. “Who was calling you just now? Was it your wife?”

Matthew sighed, pulling her closer. “If only Jennifer were as considerate as you, I wouldn’t have to worry so much. But we’re divorced now, so there’s no need for me to answer her calls.”

Lily’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction, a smile playing on her lips.

So this was what he meant by being busy—taking Lily to a dentist appointment. If he only knew that his refusal to answer the doctor’s call had cost me my life, would he feel even a flicker of regret?

The thought lingered like a dark cloud over my fading spirit, an echo of the love that had turned into ash.

No, he wouldn’t feel regret. He had been waiting for my death for a long time, eager to be free from my endless messages and calls. Now, he finally had an answer for his mother’s tragic passing.

Each time I tried to move toward that bright light, an invisible force pulled me back to Matthew’s presence. Was I bound to him even in death?

Lily had finished her tooth extraction, her cheeks slightly swollen. Matthew leaned close, blowing gently on her cheek. “When I was little, my mom said blowing on it would make the pain go away.”

His hand trembled slightly as he caressed her cheek, a telltale sign of his unease. The pain of his mother’s loss was a wound that never healed.

“What’s wrong?” Lily asked, her voice gentle and curious.

“Nothing,” he replied, forcing a weak smile. “I just thought of my mom suddenly.”

There was an awkward pause before Lily quickly changed the subject. “No work today. How about we go get something nice to eat?”

Matthew playfully tapped her nose. “You little foodie! The doctor said you need to eat light. Only porridge, remember?”

Lily pouted, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “But the porridge I make is awful. Why don’t you come to my place and make it for me? It’s been years since you cooked for me!”

Hand in hand, they walked toward Lily’s home. I floated alongside them like a shadow, my heart heavy with memories of this house—the very one Matthew had bought when he and Lily were still together. Even when financial troubles loomed over him, he clung to this home, borrowing from loan sharks to keep it. It had never been about us; it was always about her.

Lily had left him for a life abroad, chasing dreams while Matthew remained shackled to his past. “Do you remember?” she asked, nostalgia glimmering in her eyes. “You were in the kitchen making porridge, and I was sitting on the sofa, watching you quietly.”

“You promised to buy me a big villa,” she reminisced, “but I didn’t want that. All I wanted was a cozy little home with you.”

My heart twisted painfully. Why did my soul still feel such agony? I had once stood in that kitchen, with Matthew gazing at me, love in his eyes. We had been blissfully happy in our tiny apartment, unaware of the shadows lurking beneath the surface.

Now, Matthew turned on the gas with practiced ease, and the scent of white porridge soon filled the kitchen. A wave of memory crashed over me. He remembered something, then walked to the fridge and retrieved a few lettuce leaves. He finely chopped them and added them to the porridge.

“Jennifer… I heard adding lettuce to white porridge makes it taste better.”

His gaze lingered on the bowl, trembling as he lost himself in thought. This was the lettuce porridge I used to make for him, a comforting remedy during his sick days. I had concocted countless variations for him—century egg, vegetable, corn, pumpkin—yet I had never tasted the porridge he made.

Just then, his phone rang, and an unfamiliar landline number flashed on the screen. He answered, and a frantic voice erupted from the other end.

“Hello, are you Jennifer’s husband? You need to come to the hospital immediately to sign some papers. Your wife has passed away…”