For three years after my death, my mortal enemy Julian Davies visited my grave.
The first year, he threw a wild party right on my tombstone.
The second year, he hosted a barbecue party in front of my grave.
The third year, he didn’t show up.
I heard he’d fallen into a river trying to pick up his phone.
Now, he was the one dying.
Julian was dying.
He’d jumped into a raging river for a phone. He managed to grab it but couldn’t swim back up.
They pulled him out, but he never woke up. Now he was lying in a coma in the ER.
When I heard the news, I laughed for three solid minutes.?
Served him right!
After dedicating his life to making mine a living hell, did he expect any other ending?
Karma’s a bitch who always comes to collect.
But when my laughter faded, a cold dread settled in my ghostly heart. He’d dug a burial plot right next to my grave years ago, even erecting a headstone with his name on it.
If he died, would he really be buried there?
Wouldn’t that mean he’d be my neighbor for all eternity?
No way.
How much peace would I get because of him?
To confirm if Julian was truly kicking the bucket, I floated over to the city hospital.
Today, the hospital entrance was unusually lively.
Lots of media reporters were camped out, waiting for Julian.
Two years ago, Julian had gone viral for a stunningly evocative photo.
In the picture, he was dressed in black, clutching foxglove lilies under a traffic light.
His expression was desolate, his eyes filled with sorrow.
Not long after, a renowned director handpicked him to play a quiet, brooding supporting role in a high school romance drama.
He only had a handful of scenes. But one of them – a desperate, wordless crying scene- became his breakout. Overnight, he was a sensation.
Now, he was a white-hot talent, hailed as one of the most gifted actors of his generation.
Of course, all the fuss was for the reporters and paparazzi, not Julian.
Inside the intensive care unit, one Julian lay in bed.
Another Julian stood by the window.
The one in bed was hooked up to a breathing machine and countless monitors, still and peaceful, like a sleeping prince.
The one by the window was transparent, his face blank, his eyes vacant and hollow.
Whoa, seriously?
It looked like he was really dying; his soul had already left his body.
To drown himself over a phone…
I really wanted to go over and mock him.
But before I could even take two steps, the Julian by the window suddenly turned his head, as if he had eyes in the back of it, without any warning.
When he saw me, his expression was three parts shock, seven parts delight.
“Summer?”
Before I could answer, he suddenly walked over.
His voice low and choked, he pulled me into a hug.
“Summer! I’ve missed you so much!”
Wait, what the hell was hugging me?
Was this really that Julian, the one who traded insults with me the second we met?
Julian and I had been mortal enemies since we were seven.
That year, my mom divorced, and we moved to the city.
Mr. and Mrs. Davies, who lived across the street, pushed their eight-year-old son, Julian, towards me.
“Julian, hold her hand, maybe you two will be family someday.”
But despite having the setup of childhood sweethearts, we couldn’t stand each other.
In elementary school, he couldn’t stand my timidness, teasing my voice was like a “tiny, squeaky quail.”
I couldn’t stand how childish he was.
He was in fourth or fifth grade, and he was still playing in the sandbox with kindergarten kids.
When we hit middle school, I started caring about my appearance.
I’d tie my oversized school jacket around my waist, just like the other girls.
The very next class, he’d report me to the disciplinary committee.
I wasn’t one to back down, though. I’d puncture his bike tires, draw ridiculous mustaches on his face.
Whatever felt good, I’d do it. There was no reasoning with him.
Later, in high school and college, our adversarial relationship barely improved.
I’d be discussing the class party with the class president, and he’d go tell my mom I was “secretly dating.”
I finally saved up money to buy a beautiful white dress, only for him to laugh and say I looked like a walking string bean.
He didn’t even attend my funeral after I died.
It wasn’t until two months later that he showed up, completely wasted.
He danced wildly in front of my grave.
Shaking my tombstone, “Summer, don’t sleep! Wake up and party!”
How incredibly rude of him!
In the middle of the night, singing and dancing, he scared me so badly I cried and screamed.
For a moment, I couldn’t tell if he was the ghost or not.
My relationship with Julian always was, and only ever was, that of mortal enemies.
Being hugged by him like that for the first time, I almost got scared back to life.
I instinctively grabbed his arm, flipped him 180 degrees, and tossed him onto the hospital bed.
“Go on, get back in there!”
When I threw him, the timing was perfect.
He slammed right back into his body on the bed.
Julian woke up.
The blood oxygen and heart rate monitors slowly stabilized.
Before long, he opened his eyes.
But he’d probably been in the river too long.
His brain was waterlogged, and he wasn’t fully conscious.
He opened his eyes for less than a minute before closing them again and falling back asleep.
It wasn’t until noon the next day that he woke up again, was transferred out of the ICU, and moved into a luxurious private room.
After waking up, Julian’s gaze at the ceiling was vacant.
Very different from the wailing ghost who’d hugged me yesterday.
He seemed lifeless, without a spark of energy.
Even his breathing was shallow, and he didn’t respond no matter what the nurses asked.
I felt a little worried.
Did I really whack him so hard yesterday that he became brain-damaged?
If it really was because of me that he became an idiot.
And he eventually died and blamed me, demanding compensation.
How could I, a penniless ghost who barely gets a bouquet of flowers on her anniversary, be responsible for him?
“Julian, you’re dumb because your brain got waterlogged, not my fault, okay?”
Even though I knew he couldn’t hear me, I couldn’t help but squat down and whisper into his ear.
The moment the words left my lips, Julian on the hospital bed suddenly moved.
He turned his head, his amber eyes looking right at me.
Our eyes met.
Startled, I instinctively leaned back.
My entire ghostly self wasn’t careful and “plop” I fell onto the floor.
My head buzzed.
No way.
He can see me?
As soon as that thought crossed my mind, the door behind me was pushed open.
I heard a crisp female voice.
“Thank goodness, Julian, you’re finally awake.”
“You chose the role yourself, you signed the contract yourself, and you’re supposed to start filming in a few days, but you pull a stunt like this.”
“What? You think I have too much money and want to bankrupt me?”
The woman who entered had long, flowing hair, beautiful and mature. I recognized her.
It was Stella, Julian’s senior from college and his current manager.
It wasn’t until she walked closer, cradling Julian’s face to inspect it carefully and sighing, “Thank god, no disfigurement,”
That I realized Julian wasn’t looking at me.
His gaze passed right through my transparent body, looking at Stella who had just entered, and the black bag slung over her shoulder.
I clutched my non-existent heart and let out a non-existent sigh.
“Seriously, scared a ghost to death,” I thought.
For a moment there, I really thought he could see me.
Confirming that this jerk Julian was out of danger and wouldn’t bother my peaceful afterlife,
I decided to leave.
But before I could even take a step, I heard Julian, who had been silent all day, suddenly ask, “My phone? Was it found?”
Because of the choking and not speaking for a long time,
His voice was rough and hoarse.
“You, jumping into the river for a stupid phone?”
“Was it really worth it?”
Stella frowned, her tone full of blame.
But despite her words, she still took a sealed bag from her purse, opened it, and handed the phone inside to Julian.
Phone? River?
Those words froze me.
Curiosity piqued, I glanced back.
But with that one glance, I saw it.
Julian’s vacant expression shattered the moment he took the phone.
For the first time, emotion flooded his eyes.
And the phone in his hand…
No.
Wait!
That pink case… that round-headed Loopy charm…
Why is it my phone?
How did my phone end up with Julian?
Didn’t my dad take it?
Why would Julian jump into a river to get it?
…
A million thoughts flashed through my mind in that instant.
But before I could sort them out, Stella’s next words interrupted me.
“Last month, Summer’s dad was finally arrested, and the culprit pleaded guilty. You’ve waited three years for this result, you should be at peace now, right?”
Julian didn’t speak.
He just stared at my phone, eyes downcast and quiet.
But I felt a strange sense of unreality.
After three years, was my case finally closed?
I was murdered, and the reason was ridiculous.
It happened in my senior year of college, on my birthday.
My biological father, who had been hiding for years due to gambling debts, called me.
His words were earnest.
He said he wanted to see me, celebrate my birthday, and make up for all the years he’d neglected me.
I believed him and went to the rental apartment location he sent me.
But when I arrived, I realized he had no intention of celebrating my birthday.
He wanted to sell me, to the people he owed money to.
Those men said I was a college student, so they could get a higher price.
One night with me could pay off twenty thousand of my dad’s debt.
Of course, I refused.
During the struggle, someone grabbed my head and slammed it hard against the wall.
That person probably wanted to teach me a lesson, to make me compliant.
But no one expected that behind the old wallpaper, there was a rusty nail.
And it, right then and there, took my life.
That day was my 23rd birthday.
To destroy the evidence, my phone was taken by the man who called himself “my father.”
And my rapidly cooling body was stuffed into a suitcase and thrown into the river by him.
It wasn’t found until half a month later.
But my phone was supposed to have been smashed and thrown away.
Why was it with Julian?
I didn’t wonder for long.
Soon, Julian cleared up the confusion for me.
He looked up and curved his lips at Stella.
His eyes held a hint of hope.
“Stella, can you please try to recover the data and get it to turn on?”
Stella was speechless, rolling her eyes.
“Do you think I’m a fairy godmother? If the police couldn’t do it, how can I?”
“This is the best it’ll ever be. Don’t expect any more miracles from me.”
Julian didn’t say anything, just stared at her directly.
His smile stiffened inch by inch, and the color drained from his face.
Finally, Stella gave in.
“Fine, fine, I swear I owe you my life!”
She was a little annoyed.
She grabbed her bag and turned to leave.
At the door, she turned back and reminded him, “Take your medicine on time, don’t stop without permission, got it?”
And my heart, too, tightened again as their conversation ended.
What was Julian trying to do?
He wanted to unlock my phone?
Damn it!
A person can die, but the contents of their phone absolutely cannot be seen by anyone else!
Especially not Julian!
“Julian, you really shouldn’t live!”
“Just die! You jerk!”
I couldn’t choke Julian.
I couldn’t even touch a single strand of his hair.
I felt as powerless as trying to slap someone in 3D while being a 2D entity; my soul was almost scattering.
But Julian was doing fine, his complexion getting rosier by the day.
He was discharged from the hospital within a few days.
Worried that he would really find someone to fix the phone and see my secrets hidden in the memo app,
I didn’t dare to leave, sticking to him like glue.
Trying to find a way to intervene with his decision.
He ate, I followed.
He slept, I followed.
He showered.
Showered…
Hearing the splashing shower sounds from the bathroom, I felt a little tempted.
To be honest, Julian, despite his terrible personality, had an absolutely gorgeous face when he wasn’t talking.
I’d lived for over twenty years, never dated, never seen a man’s abs.
Now that I was dead.
A quick peek, wouldn’t be too much, would it?
Not too much at all.
So I decided to look.
But I still pretended to be polite, standing at the door and yelling inside,
“Julian, after fifteen years of being childhood friends, let me see your abs!”
“If you don’t refuse, I’ll take it as a yes, okay?”
Perfect.
He didn’t refuse.
I grinned, my head passing through the door.
I expected to see a naked Julian.
But what I saw was Julian, fully clothed.
Water poured down over his head.
His wet clothes clung to him, outlining his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and slender physique.
And looking up… his eyes were bloodshot, his wet hair messy, staring straight at the doorway.
My soul nearly shriveled up, seriously!
What kind of sane person showers with clothes on?
And the way he was looking at the doorway, for a moment, it really seemed like he was looking at me.
From his eyes, I even read emotions of suppressed pain.
A trick of the mind, perhaps?
Never mind.
I won’t look anymore.
It’s no fun.
I grumbled silently.
I wanted to leave, but my gaze involuntarily fixed on his arm.
There, several scars crisscrossed.
One of them, like a centipede, snaked from his upper arm to his wrist.
Suddenly, my chest tightened.
Any romantic thoughts vanished instantly.
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