The year I turned eighteen, I fell hopelessly in love with my adoptive brother.
To force me to move on, he paraded a new girlfriend before me every month.
He even offered me a hundred million dollars to let him go.
But I swore back, I’ll only give up when I die.
Then he brought her home, a girl with my face.
After that, the other women vanished. My feelings became irrelevant.
When she mentioned a craving for a cheesecake from the West End, he drove thirty miles himself to get it.
On their hundred-day anniversary,she whispered that she wanted privacy. His order to me was simple. “Get out of the car.”
I died on the side of the road that same day, struck by a car.
Then, I was granted a seven-day return pass to the living world.
“Caleb, I’m dead.”
The moment I was thrown through the air, my last thought was to him.
I called him ninety-nine times. He never answered.
he list of missed calls was a monument to my foolishness, a perfect summary of every year I’d wasted chasing him.
When Caleb finally rushed home with Lydia, he circled my body, his face bleaching of all color. “How could you say that? You can’t just say you’re dead?”
Of course, I knew.
When I was a little girl, I begged to go to the amusement park. My parents, who could never deny me, had taken time off work to take me.
But On the way, a truck swerved out of control. They shielded me with their own bodies and died instantly.
I was the one rushed into the ICU, clinging to life.
Caleb, who never believed in anything, prayed for the first time. He begged for my life.
I survived, but a part of my spirit withered that day.
My parents died because of me. I felt like a murderer. I stopped eating, wanting to follow them.
But Caleb was stubborn. “It was an accident,” he insisted. “You die, I die.”
It was a vow. When I refused food, he refused it.
When I slashed my wrist, he didn’t hesitate to cut two deeper gashes into his own.
“If you’re gone,” he asked me, his eyes raw, “what is left here for me?”
From that day on, I never dared to speak the word “die” again.
But now, I was truly dead.
In this moment, a strange, quiet gratitude washed over me. At least someone would be there for Caleb, even if she was just a stand-in..
I stayed quiet. I didn’t scream or fight.
Caleb could only stare, his eyes wide with pure disbelief.
In my past life, every time Caleb brought a woman home, I’d throw a massive tantrum.
I’d smash vases, break plates, destroy anything I could get my hands on.
After the storm, I would drag my suitcase out the door. And every single time, Caleb would get in his car and track me down himself.
This time, I didn’t even look at them. I turned and went back to my room.
Just before I fell asleep, the door opened.
Lydia walked in, wearing Caleb’s shirt, a glass of milk in her hand. She offered it to me. “So, are we trying a new strategy today? Playing hard to get?”
“Stop making a scene from now on. Caleb and I are getting married.”
I kept my eyes on her, but remained silent.
Lydia, seeing my indifference, gently ruffled my hair. “He loves you, but he has to marry me. We’re not enemies, Chloe.”
I gave a bitter laugh. “I knew that the moment I first saw you.”
I turned my head, looking at our reflections in the window. We looked incredibly similar.
The room remained silent. Downstairs, Caleb rushed into the house, then burst into the room. After confirming I was okay, he finally noticed Lydia, and his brows furrowed.
As if afraid I might have overheard something.
Caleb’s eyes held a strange, complicated emotion.
“I’ve decided to marry Lydia. Nothing’s going to change that.”
“Get rid of those foolish thoughts of yours. Go to Mom and Dad’s study and reflect.”
“When you understand, then you can come out.”
This was Caleb’s usual tactic, his way of trying to make me see the reality of our relationship.
But he probably forgot that we weren’t related by blood.
I was just an orphaned girl adopted by his parents, nothing more.
Just because I called him brother, did my love for him become a sin?
“I won’t.”
Caleb’s face instantly darkened, his eyes chillingly cold.
He didn’t say a word. He just grabbed my wrist, his grip so strong it made my hand ache.
He dragged me towards the room, forcing me to stumble along with him.
“Since you don’t want to reflect, then you can stay in here alone.”
“If you can’t figure it out, then you won’t eat.”
Bang!
The door slammed shut in front of me.
I slumped against the door, listening to his footsteps recede, growing fainter until they vanished at the end of the hallway.
For the next three days, Caleb came back every few hours.
He wouldn’t come in. He’d just stand outside the door for a moment, then leave.
Lydia would occasionally drop by too, saying through the door, “What’s the point of fighting with him? You’re always the one who gives in first.”
She was right.
Caleb would always soften. He was afraid I’d be too stubborn to back down, afraid I’d starve myself, afraid something would happen to me.
On the evening of the third day, I heard the lock turn.
Caleb stood at the doorway, backlit, so I couldn’t make out his expression. I could only see his tall silhouette.
“Come out.”
His voice was softer than before, like he’d conceded.
I pushed myself up against the door, my legs wobbly, my body swaying forward.
Caleb instinctively reached out to steady me. The moment his fingers touched my arm, his entire body stiffened.
“You…” He stared at my arm, his Adam’s apple bobbing, words catching in his throat.
Finally, he pulled his hand back.
“Go take a shower, then come down for dinner.”
After my shower, I went downstairs. The dining table was already laden with food.
In the center, a plate of blueberry muffins glowed invitingly under the light.
They were my favorite treat.
My parents used to love making them for me. After they left, whenever I missed them, Caleb would bake them himself.
“Have you learned your lesson?”
Caleb sat opposite me, taking a sip of his tea, his voice betraying no emotion.
I didn’t answer. I sat down and picked up a blueberry muffin, putting it into my mouth.
The soft, sweet taste melted on my tongue, spreading warmth through me.
Then my stomach churned violently.
Caleb put down his teacup and reached out, as if to pat my back.
I clapped a hand over my mouth and rushed to the bathroom, throwing up uncontrollably into the toilet.
The blueberry muffin I’d just eaten, along with the little water left in my stomach, all came out.
Turns out, the dead can’t eat the food of the living.
I leaned against the wall, catching my breath for a moment. When I looked up, Lydia was standing in the doorway.
She walked in and knelt in front of me, a flicker of concern in her eyes. “I didn’t want to say anything…”
“But Chloe, you look like… you might be pregnant.”
“You can’t face this alone. Tell us, and Caleb and I can help you.”
Footsteps sounded outside the door.
Caleb stood at the bathroom entrance, his fingers clenching, veins popping.
“You’re pregnant?”
Pregnant?
How could I, a dead person, be pregnant?
I opened my mouth, wanting to explain, but swallowed the words back.
It didn’t matter. I was going to die anyway.
I wasn’t going to be with him, so let him misunderstand.
Caleb stared at me, silent for a few seconds, then suddenly spoke. “We’re going to the hospital.”
My fingers curled up, my fingertips as cold as if they’d been submerged in ice water.
What could a hospital possibly find?
That my body temperature was zero, that my heart had long stopped beating?
That I was dead?
“I’m not going.”
“You have to.” His voice was hard, brooking no refusal.
“I said, I’m not going.”
I looked up at him.
He was looking back at me, his brows tightly furrowed, his eyes filled with complex emotions.
Suspicion, disappointment, and something else I couldn’t quite decipher.
Lydia sighed beside him. “Caleb, you need to respect Chloe’s feelings on this.”
She paused, her tone softening. “She’s an adult now. Haven’t you always wanted her to move on from you?”
“Now that she has her own life, you should be happy.”
Caleb remained silent.
The living room was terrifyingly quiet, every breath clearly audible.
After a long time, he finally spoke, his voice low.
“If you’re really pregnant, bring the child’s father here. Let me meet him.”
I froze.
He actually believed it.
Believed I would sleep with another man, believed I would carry another man’s child.
A dull ache suddenly swelled in my chest, as if something was tearing inside me.
I knew it was fake, that a dead person couldn’t feel pain, but the sensation was so real, so real I almost clutched my chest.
“I refuse.”
“Chloe!” Caleb shot up, “Do you even see me as family, Chloe?”
Family.
There it was again, that cursed word.
I looked up at him, tears welling uncontrollably, but I still smiled.
I smiled, and the tears spun in my eyes.
“I never wanted you to be my brother.”
He opened his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbed a few times, but in the end, nothing came out.
He turned, footsteps sounding, growing more distant.
The door slammed shut.
For the next few days, Caleb never returned.
I stayed alone in the empty house, starting to pack my things.
Clothes in the closet, folded one by one, placed into bags.
Photos on the desk, torn one by one.
Only one photo remained.
It was a picture of Caleb and me, taken when I was ten.
He was so young in the photo, his eyes crinkling into a smile.
I pressed the photo to my chest, imagining it would be buried with me.
After packing, I pre-scheduled a text message to the funeral home.
Telling them to come for my body in three days.
That would be Caleb’s wedding day.
I pressed send.
The phone screen lit up, displaying “Scheduled message set.”
This was good.
The day I truly left, I wouldn’t have to attend his wedding.
Wouldn’t have to watch him and Lydia exchange rings, wouldn’t have to hear him say “I do,” wouldn’t have to see them kiss in front of everyone.
At least fate, in its cruel way, granted me this small, pathetic mercy.
On the wedding day, I woke up early.
Six o’clock, before the sky was fully light, I got up and got ready.
I put on light makeup in the mirror and changed into that cream-colored dress.
I wore it when I confessed my feelings to Caleb when I was eighteen.
Now, I would wear it again, sitting quietly on the sofa, waiting for death.
At the wedding venue, guests gradually arrived. Caleb stood at the reception, his gaze occasionally sweeping towards the entrance.
Lydia held his arm, wearing a pure white wedding dress.
She followed his gaze. “Are you waiting for Chloe?”
Caleb’s body stiffened slightly.
“She won’t come.”
“With her personality, how could she stand by and watch you marry me?”
“Don’t worry, after the wedding, I’ll go with you to find her.”
“Hmm,” Caleb hummed, his voice a little dry.
At 9:55 AM, the wedding was about to begin. The officiant was making final preparations on stage, guests were seated, and the ceremony awaited the couple’s entrance.
“Caleb, it’s time to go in,” Lydia urged.
Just then, Caleb’s phone vibrated.
He instinctively pulled it out and saw the caller ID-
“Funeral Home.”
He froze.
Why would the funeral home be calling him now?
“Hello?” He answered the phone.
“Is this Mr. Caleb?”
The voice on the other end was very formal. “I’m a staff member from City Funeral Home.”
“According to our records, you are Ms. Chloe’s guardian. We are required to inform you as per protocol.”
“What does that mean?” Caleb interrupted, his voice hurried.
“Ms. Chloe has passed away, and her remains are currently undergoing cremation. We require your signature for confirmation.”
The voice on the phone was calm, as if stating the most ordinary fact.
My soul, having just floated free from my body, jolted violently.
I’d actually forgotten about this. How I wished you wouldn’t know of my death.
But you know, after all.
You’ll probably be sad, won’t you? I’m sorry, Caleb.
But this time, I’m leaving for good.
Those words hit Caleb like a heavy hammer to the heart.
The color instantly drained from his face, and he froze on the spot.
“What did you say?”
His voice trembled. “Say it again.”
“Ms. Chloe has passed away. The cremation process is currently underway-”
Clatter.
His phone slipped from his hand, falling to the floor.
Everyone around was startled by the sudden change.
“Caleb, what’s wrong?”
Lydia grabbed his hand, only to find it terrifyingly cold.
“She’s dead.”
Caleb murmured, his eyes unfocused. “She’s dead…”
“What? Who’s dead?”
“Chloe.”
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