My husband, a lawyer, tells his true love to deny that she wrongly administered an IV and insist that her patient passed away due to a heart attack. He also instructs her to immediately cremate the patient. He does all of this to protect her.

Not only does Marie Harding not have to spend a day behind bars, but she doesn't even have to compensate the patient.

Once the dust has settled, my husband celebrates with her and congratulates her now that she's free of an annoying patient.

What he doesn't know is that I'm that patient. I've died with his baby in my belly.

On the third day after my death, my soul lingered by my husband's side. I watched Clifford Holmes celebrate with Marie Harding for finally losing a difficult patient. He brought her back to our bedroom.

"That pregnant patient suffered from congenital heart disease and lobar pneumonia. I pitied her. Whenever I think about the fact that I was behind her death, I feel super guilty," Marie sobbed, nearly fainting as she recounted the incident.

Clifford, who often gave me the cold shoulder, offered Marie a consoling hug. "You can tell that the patient wasn't well-loved since her family didn't even visit the hospital after her death. Besides, it was a medical accident. You shouldn't feel sad over her death."

I grew up an orphan. As my only family, Clifford should have fought for justice instead of helping Marie evade her responsibilities. Because of him, I was denied a dignified funeral. My ashes remained unclaimed at the funeral home.

Marie bit her lip. "I'm so thankful for you."

Clifford tenderly caressed her head. "I promised to be by your side whenever you needed it. Now, take a shower and rest early. Think of this as a nightmare that has ended."

"Okay." A thought struck Marie. "Cliff, hasn't your wife come home? It's been weeks. Does she have a lover?"

"Nah, she's not the type to keep a lover," he replied without hesitation.

Then, he coldly reminded her, "Do not mention her anymore!"

Marie playfully winked at him. "From how you refuse to mention her name, you sure seem to hate her very much!"

He pursed his lips in what appeared to be silent agreement.

We never had a wedding, and he refused to introduce me to his friends. The mention of my name appalled him, so Marie had no idea I was his wife. Moreover, he was so busy helping Marie that he hadn't even asked about the deceased patient's name. He had no idea it was me.

Clifford carried Marie to the bathroom. As he passed the living room, he turned a photo frame face down with a frown.

The bedroom we shared betrayed no trace of my existence. In fact, I had quietly placed that photo of mine from just now in the last few days in his absence.

Thankfully, I did not have to bear the brunt of his anger now that I was dead.

Clifford called me when Marie was taking a shower. It had been weeks since we last saw each other, during which I failed to get in touch with him. This marked the first time he'd reached out to me.

He made a few calls, but my phone seemed to be turned off. He hissed through gritted teeth, "Fine, Holly Lewis, don't pick up my calls. You'd better not come home too!"

He seemed to have forgotten that he made Marie destroy my phone and flush it down the toilet.

Marie stepped out of the bathroom and flirted with him. "Cliff, I don't feel like walking."

"You poor thing." He lovingly tapped the tip of her nose and carried her into the bedroom next to ours. That room was off-limits to me. So, this was my first time entering that space.

The bedroom next door was cozier than the main bedroom. It resembled a space shared by newlyweds.

"Gosh, Cliff! The room is—" Marie covered her mouth in shock.

Clifford gazed at her tenderly. "You told me you wanted our bedroom to look like this if we got married."

"It was just a casual remark. I can't believe you still remember that."

"I remember everything you say."

I listened to their conversation in deep disappointment. I took Clifford's words seriously when he claimed to dislike extravagant decor. Never had I thought that he had turned our love nest into a home with his mistress.

Overjoyed, Marie draped her arms around his shoulders and tried to kiss him. One didn't need to guess what would happen next.

Refusing to watch my husband sleep with another woman, I tried to leave. At that moment, my close friend George Rackman knocked on the bedroom door.

Upon witnessing the scene, George bellowed at Clifford, "How dare you bring home your mistress when Holly just died? Clifford Holmes, you're shameless!"

I expected Clifford to be shocked, if not sad, about my passing.

But all Clifford did was scoff. "What stunt are you pulling with Holly again? She threatened to divorce me so I'd break it off with Marie, but she refused to sign the divorce papers when I handed them to her. Is she faking her death since the threat of divorce isn't working on me?"

George was on the brink of a meltdown. "She's really dead!"

Clifford snapped impatiently, "Okay. Where's her body, then?"

"She's cremated."

"And where are the ashes?"

"I have no idea. I just came home from filming. My manager told me that the hospital called to inform me about Holly's death. It smelled fishy, but I had no right to probe because I'm not her family. Clifford, you need to come to the hospital with me and get to the bottom of this case!"

I only had two emergency contacts—Clifford, who was hard to reach, and George, who was crying and nearing an emotional breakdown.

George spoke between sobs, but Clifford dismissed his behavior. He thought he was acting. "Mr. Rackman, you're certainly a good actor, but maybe get the story right with Holly before you pull this on me. You don't have the body or the ashes. Even a kid would never come up with such a poor excuse. Tell Holly to either come home by 3:00 pm tomorrow or never come back!"

With that, Clifford slammed the door in George's face. The latter knocked on the door like crazy. "Open the door! Clifford Holmes, you need to come to the hospital with me! Open up!"

His fists started to bleed. Tears and snot stained his face. It pained me to see him like that. I wanted to comfort him, but my hand passed right through his body. Now that I was dead, I could not even offer him solace.

Meanwhile, Clifford paid no attention to George's words. He returned to the bedroom and continued hanging out with Marie.

To my surprise, he later entered the main bedroom instead of staying in the adjacent room. Back in the main bedroom, he pulled open a drawer to reveal a Longines watch.

I gasped, "I thought you tossed it out."

I bought the watch for Clifford after saving up for three months at my first job, but he never put it on. When we got into a fight, he tossed it out. I was surprised to find it in the drawer.

But Clifford couldn't hear me. He stared at the watch with an impatient frown before slamming the drawer shut.

…

The next day, Clifford did not go to work at his law firm, which was uncharacteristic of him. After waking up, he painstakingly bought groceries from the morning market to make breakfast for Marie.

It seemed like a usual day for Marie. "Your cooking is the best!"

He wiped her lips with a napkin. "I'll cook for you every day if you like."

"What about your wife? Do you cook for her every day?" She pouted enviously.

After a short silence, he admitted, "No."

Clifford never cooked for me after we got married, and he did not like hiring maids. Hence, I had to take on all the housework. To me, he was a scion who was raised pampered. It surprised me to see him cooking for Marie.

Marie happily warped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. "Let's go to the movies after breakfast! I want to watch this new romance movie with you!"

"Sure," Clifford answered with a smile, even though he always told me that the movies were a waste of time.

They went to the movies after breakfast. Then, they spent the rest of the day at a theme park before coming home in the evening.

Right after Clifford set foot in the house, he searched high and low—for me. I knew he was looking for me because he thought I would come home before the deadline he gave me, just like before. Alas, I could never come home again because I was dead.

"Cliff, are you looking for something?" Marie leaned against him.

"No." He dialed my number with a brooding expression, but what greeted him was the automated message.

"Sorry, the number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service."

His expression crumpled as he called George. "Is Holly with you? I want her to come home right now!"

George snapped at him, "Clifford Holmes, how dare you call me? I've asked around. After Holly's death, it was you and Marie Harding who took care of the cremation. You and that woman had better have nothing to do with her death, or I'll make you pay the price!"

Clifford denied, "The woman I cremated was a patient of Marie's."

"And that patient was Holly!"

"Are you joking?" Clifford froze.

"Go check with the hospital if you don't believe me!" George hung up on him.

Marie noticed the change in Clifford's expression. She inched closer to him. "What's wrong, Cliff?"

Clutching his phone tightly, he questioned, "What's the name of that patient who died at your hands?"

She pouted. "I thought we agreed not to mention her… Ouch! Cliff, that hurts!"

Clifford did not bother to be gentle with Marie. He grabbed her shoulders and barked, "Tell me her name!"

"Holly Lewis!"