But I had heard these words countless times after my death when I forced myself to stay conscious and rushed to the wedding.

At that time, I did not know I was already dead.

When I saw the wedding venue’s large screens showing intimate photos of me with a man, I panicked and ran in front of them to explain.

“Chris, that’s not me! Please believe me!”

“Henry, no—I really didn’t do this!”

…

But they could not hear a word I said.

That was when I realized I was nothing more than a powerless soul.

“This is absolutely disgusting! Is she cheating on Mr. Smith?”

“I heard she almost killed her own sister! What an awful person!”

…

Elizabeth took his arm and comforted him gently. “Chris, I think there must be some misunderstanding! Don’t let it affect you!”

But Christopher clenched his fists and, in one swift motion, shattered the screen behind him, thus crushing my face.

Watching his reaction, my heart felt as if someone had squeezed it tightly.

But he then turned around and took Elizabeth’s hand, and publicly announced, “The only woman I want to marry is Elizabeth.”

Everything happened like a slow-motion movie playing out in front of me.

My body felt like it was being tortured, with each stab of pain more unbearable than the last.

My father rushed over to inform them of my disappearance, but he was met with sarcasm from Christopher.

“Disappeared? With the disgusting things she has done, she’s probably too ashamed to show her face!”

My brother also joined in with a scornful yell. “She hurt Liz, and now she has done such shameless things. I refuse to acknowledge such a wicked sister!”

Every word was a clear insult directed at me.

It turned out that they had never trusted me, not even a little.

“You... All of you!” My father trembled with rage and collapsed to the floor.

“Dad!” I ran toward him, panicking desperately, but I slowly lost consciousness.

And I never woke up again.

It was only at that moment that I realized it was not death that shattered me, but the complete lack of trust from those I loved most.

“We’re done here. Let’s go to the hospital to check on Liz!”

My body was placed into a cold storage room, but my soul followed them to the hospital.

Elizabeth rushed over with a bright smile as soon as we entered.

“Chris, I’m pregnant!”

Both of their faces lit up with joy after hearing her words.

Christopher pulled her into his arms with great excitement and said, “Liz, thank you!”

My brother almost cried from happiness. He gently stroked her head. “That is wonderful, Liz. I’m going to be an uncle!”

Their overwhelming joy and laughter filled the room.

I was left standing alone as if I had fallen into an icy hell, the coldness seeped through my body.

It had only been two months, and Elizabeth was already pregnant.

How absurd!

The one who had cruelly taken my life was being cared by both my lover and my brother.

Within just two short months after my death, she was even carrying Christopher’s child.

And what was I to them?

Even when I was alive, I never had their love.

What they gave me was just indifference and impatience.

I was in a car accident and broke my arm, yet my brother chose to be with Elizabeth, who had only caught a minor cold.

When I had a miscarriage and my life was in danger, Christopher was celebrating her birthday with her.

He even hung up on my repeated desperate calls for help.

When I later confronted him, he coldly said, “You didn’t pay attention when you walked. Who else can you blame for your miscarriage?”

That sentence pierced my heart like a steel needle, and the agonizing pain was suffocating me.

I was nothing compared to Elizabeth.

Perhaps he had never really wanted a child with me.

But everything used to be so beautiful.

Why did everything change the moment Elizabeth appeared?

Was all of this God punishing me for saving Elizabeth?

When I was fifteen, I found Elizabeth barely alive by the river during a trip.

I rushed her to the hospital, but after she woke up, she told me she had nowhere to go.

Feeling sorry for her, I brought her home.

At first, she was so sweet and well-mannered, quickly winning everyone over, including my brother.

But the night before my SATs, she snuck into my room and burned my ID card.

When I confronted her, she set her own hand on fire, a faint smile on her face.

I stood there. I was so confused. That was when my brother suddenly stormed in, shoving me to the floor. “Naomi, what the hell are you doing?”

He shouted at me without listening to a word I said. Then he walked off with Elizabeth sobbing in his arms.

I froze while watching him disappear from my sight until I felt a sharp pain in my wrist.

It was not until then that I realized I had sprained it.

From then on, my brother who had always doted on me turned into someone I did not recognize. “Whatever I do, it’s always wrong in his eyes.”

I confided in Christopher, hoping he would understand how much it hurt. But instead, he coldly reprimanded me. “Naomi, you shouldn’t bully her just because of your social status.”

For a second, I thought I had misheard him.

I stared at him, my eyes burning with dryness.

Even Christopher thought I was bullying Elizabeth! Why?

I finally found out the truth when I was lying there, barely clinging to life after being tormented by her.

She and Christopher were childhood sweethearts.

So, all his unbiased judgment was just him blatantly favoring her.

I meant nothing to him.

After dinner, my brother left first.

Christopher took Elizabeth to ride the Ferris wheel just because she had pouted and said, “I heard that if you kiss at the top, you’ll stay together forever!”

They made it there, and a breeze blew a few strands of hair across her face.

Christopher gently tucked her hair behind her ear.

His gaze was soft and full of affection as he looked at her.

He kissed her under the glow of the fireworks.

I watched them kiss passionately as I floated beside them. My heart felt like it was being eaten alive.

But the burning hatred inside me felt even worse, as if I was being set on fire from the inside out.

“Your ‘happy ever after’ had nothing to do with me! Why torture me like this?” I screamed at Christopher, demanding answers like a madwoman. “If you didn’t love me, why did you accept my confession and propose to me?”

But they just kept kissing, lost in their own world.

It still hurt so much.

Even clutching my chest could not ease the pain.

It was like the agony had seeped into my bones and spread through every inch of me.

God really was cruel—letting me suffer even after I was dead.

Christopher and Elizabeth strolled down the street hand in hand, as people stared at them with envy.

Marriage, kids, and a happy family—they had it all.

Even I was jealous of them.

But all of it had been built on top of my bloody, broken body.

How could they enjoy it without a shred of guilt?

As I felt a sharp sting in my palm, someone suddenly rushed up and slapped Christopher hard on the face.

It was my best friend, Trisha! “Christopher Smith, you trash!”

Before anyone could react, she slapped him again, even harder this time.

Christopher’s head snapped to the side, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

He wiped it off, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Are you crazy?”

But her eyes were red, tears streaming down her face as she screamed at him. “Naomi has been missing for so long, and instead of looking for her, you’re marrying this woman! How could you do that to her?”

Christopher frowned, clearly irritated at the mention of my name. “She cheated on me. I’m the victim! Who knows if she’s out there sleeping with some other guy!”

He shoved Trisha aside and was about to leave the scene with Elizabeth.

Just then, his phone rang suddenly.

He frowned, but when he saw it was Sergeant Hunter calling, he answered it anyway.

“Christopher, the DNA results are back. The body... It’s Naomi’s.”