Fletcher closed his eyes and stayed silent for a long time.

“All right. Throw it away.”

“June,” he said, “from now on, I’ll marry you and I’ll never mention Ashley again.”

June smiled, took his hand and gently pressed it to her cheek like a kitten curling up for warmth.

“I knew you’d work through it. We’ll have our own life, our own marriage… and our own children.”

That night, June had changed into a brand-new piece of lingerie she’d just bought and even dabbed on perfume.

But before she could throw herself into his arms, Fletcher’s phone rang.

It was his assistant, sounding breathless with excitement.

“Mr. Reynolds, we’ve found news about Ashley again!”

Fletcher’s expression instantly darkened, his grip tightening on the phone. He shot to his feet.

“What did you just say?”

Even I, floating nearby, was stunned.

I’d been dead for five years.

How could they possibly have news about me?

Could it be… they’d discovered where my body was buried?

Before I could react, a gust of wind seemed to sweep through as Fletcher grabbed his coat and bolted out the door.

Behind him, June’s anxious voice called after him—but no answer.

I drifted along behind him.

Fletcher quickly met up with his assistant.

Panting, the man said, “Mr. Reynolds, I saw Mrs. Rey—oh, I mean Ashley. It’s just… she’s not doing well. She’s working as a housekeeper in a hotel.”

Fletcher’s face turned stormy, but his words were short and sharp.

“Take me there. Now.”

After ten years together, I knew Fletcher’s body language too well.

His whole frame was taut—he’d been waiting for this moment for five long years.

When the assistant moved too slowly, Fletcher cut him off impatiently.

“Forget it. Just give me the address. I’ll find her myself.”

With supposedly my address in hand, he tore into the hotel like a man possessed, searching every floor, every bathroom.

On the 22nd floor, he finally spotted a woman bent over, scrubbing a toilet.

Fletcher froze, his breath coming hard.

“Ashley!”

His voice was hoarse, laced with a cold, bitter laugh as he seized her wrist.

“You took my money, got rid of our baby and walked out on me—and now you’re living like this. Don’t you regret leaving me?” His eyes burned red as he stared at the back of her head.

But when the woman turned around, I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh.

It had been a false alarm.

The face was completely unfamiliar.

Fletcher stood stunned for a moment, the light in his eyes dying out.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“I thought you’re someone I know.”

The truth was, in the five years since my death, whenever news about me faded, another rumor would pop up.

The first year, someone claimed that after aborting the baby, I bought a plane ticket overseas and married a local.

Fletcher was still in the hospital then—he crushed a glass in his bare hand when he heard.

Before he’d even recovered enough to be discharged, he ordered his assistant to buy a ticket so he could fly overseas immediately.

He followed every lead he could find, scouring every possible place.

In the end, he came back empty-handed.

But after that, whenever another rumor surfaced about me marrying that man, his brow would crease and he’d pay close attention.

The second year, someone claimed they’d seen me in Paris, taking tourist photos at the Eiffel Tower.

Fletcher immediately canceled an important meeting, booked a ticket and flew straight there—only to come back empty-handed again.

In the third year, someone claimed they’d seen me working as an escort in a private club overseas.

In the fourth and fifth years, every time there was news—any whisper—about my whereabouts, Fletcher would rush to the location and investigate it himself.

This time was no different.

He truly believed the rumor might finally be real.

But instead of finding me, he was met with a stranger.

When he got back, he flew into a rage.

“How could you give me such a false report?!” he roared, hurling a glass to the floor.

His assistant went pale, trembling.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Reynold. I should’ve looked into it more carefully,” he stammered. “She was using the same phone as Miss Ashley and her face looked somewhat similar to hers, so I thought she was—”

“The woman in the wedding photo in your office…” The words slipped out barely above a whisper.

Fletcher’s expression eased slightly. In that moment, he realized it wasn’t entirely the assistant’s fault.

The man had only been hired in recent years. He had never met me before, so mistaking someone else for me was understandable.

Fletcher took a deep breath, slumped into his chair and sank into thought.

“Ashley, what kind of game are you playing? Are you toying with me on purpose—keeping me chasing, just so you can feel satisfied?” He slammed a fist into the wall.

It took a long time before he managed to pull himself together.

“Just wait,” he growled, “I will find you—dead or alive. And when I do, I’ll make sure you see… me leaving you, the same way you left me!”

By the time Fletcher got home, it was already past midnight.

The lights were still on. June sat on the couch, eyes red from crying, waiting for him.

As soon as she heard the door, she threw herself into his arms.

“Fletcher, where have you been?” her voice choked with hurt.

A flicker of guilt passed through his eyes. He took her hand and said, “June, I told you not to wait up for me. You should have gone to bed.”

“You went looking for Ashley again, didn’t you?” she demanded.

“Fletcher, it’s not that I don’t want you to remember her, but have you forgotten? She walked out on you at your lowest point and took every cent you had left to save your life. She doesn’t deserve forgiveness!”

Her eyes were wet with tears threatening to spill.

“Have you forgotten what you said to me five years ago when you woke up? You told me you’d forget that woman—and marry me.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

Fletcher’s brows furrowed slightly.

“I know when I had nothing, you emptied your savings for my treatment… you even gave me your bone marrow. I promise I will marry you. It’s just…” he faltered, voice low, “I still don’t understand why Ashley was so ruthless. Why she just… left without a word.”

Watching the pain and confusion knot his face, my heart felt like it was being torn apart.

But I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t tell him the truth.

Because I was already dead.

All I could do was cling to my resentment, using the faint thread of awareness I had left to watch it all unfold.

That night, I saw Fletcher take out the necklace he’d had made for me five years ago and fasten it gently around June’s neck.

Then he pulled her close—and kissed her.

“June, I know you’ve loved me with all your heart these past five years. Don’t worry—our wedding will still take place next month, just as planned.”

Reassured, June’s expression softened.

“Then I want you to promise me—don’t go looking for Ashley anymore. Once we’re married, I’ll give you a child and we’ll live a happy life as a family of three…”

With that sweet dream in her mind, June drifted off to sleep in Fletcher’s arms.

But as soon as she fell asleep, Fletcher’s eyes flickered with thought.

He gently moved her off him, got up and went downstairs.

Dialing his assistant’s number, he said, “You said the hotel housekeeper was using Ashley’s phone?”

The next day, Fletcher received the complete information on the hotel housekeeper.

“Zoey Stone. Female. Thirty-two years old…” The assistant read from the file, his tone cautious.

Fletcher’s brow tightened with every detail.

“We ran a thorough check, sir. As far as we can tell, this woman– Zoey has no connection to Ashley. Honestly, I doubt they even know each other.”

His expression didn’t change. Fingers tapped lightly on the desk. “Okay. You can go.”

From that day forward, Fletcher’s attention began to settle more and more on Zoey.

One evening after work, she was cornered in a narrow alley by a few drunk louts, seconds away from being assaulted.

Sitting in his black luxury car, Fletcher watched, face unreadable.

Just as they reached for her dress strap, a fist came down hard. The drunks were kicked to the ground in an instant.

Zoey, still shaken, looked up at him. “It’s you again? Thank you…for saving me.”

Fletcher said nothing, only shrugged off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

“Where do you live? I’ll take you home.”

She shook her head with a bitter smile. “I don’t have a home. I can’t afford rent. I’ve been sleeping in the hotel’s cleaning supply room.”

He looked at her in surprise. Half an hour later, he handed her a bank card.

“Stop working at the hotel. Come be my assistant.”

Her eyes lit up, joy breaking across her face.

From then on, she became Fletcher’s personal assistant.

His clothes—Zoey ironed them.

His schedule—Zoey arranged it.

And she handled it better than anyone before her.

But one day, Fletcher came home early. He leaned against the doorway, watching her tidy his wardrobe.

The longer he looked, the darker his expression grew.

“How do you know this way of tying a bow?”

He crossed the room in a few strides, seizing the tie in her hands, his own trembling.

Only one person he knew tied bows that way—me.

Back in that shabby rented apartment, I used to do it just to make him laugh.

Even the strings around a cake box, I’d tie into this same bow.

Fletcher’s eyes turned red as he gripped Zoey’s shoulders.

“Tell me! What’s your connection to Ashley? Where is she?”

Zoey stared back, confused and frightened.

“Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I learned how to tie this bow from the internet.”

But Fletcher couldn’t accept it.

Every instinct told him she was linked to me—but no matter how hard he searched, he found nothing.

He kept staring at her, as if trying to see through her face to the one behind it.

Floating above, I felt a bitter storm in my chest.

Zoey’s face was maybe half like mine, but the way she moved was different.

Still, if she tried to imitate me, anyone who didn’t know me well might never notice.

Right now, that look on her face… it made Fletcher’s grip soften.

Their eyes locked. Something unspoken began to stir in the air and Zoey’s cheeks burned red.

“Sir… do I look like someone you knew? Do you love that woman so much?”

Fletcher’s gaze cleared a little. He began to let go—but Zoey suddenly winced, her body tilting backward.

“My head… it’s spinning, sir…”

He caught her before she could fall.

That was the exact moment June appeared in the doorway.

She froze, her face drained of color. The teacup in her hand slipped, shattering on the floor with a sharp crash.