Chapter 1

In the sixth month after I died, my husband Liam brought his lover to a class reunion.

A classmate asked, "Liam, why haven't we seen you with Shannon lately? Who is this?"

Liam sneered, "She's being dramatic and took off. Don't mind her, she'll come crawling back in a few days."

A classmate sitting in the corner, however, frowned in confusion. "Didn't Shannon die in that air crash half a year ago? I saw the list with my own eyes."

The wine glass slipped from Liam's hand, shattering on the marble floor. He shot to his feet, his face turning ashen under the lights, his eyes locked on the speaker. "What are you talking about?!"

The classmate, startled, spoke with certainty. "I'm not lying. My cousin worked on the case. I saw the final list. Shannon's name was on it. Liam, you... didn't you know?"

"Impossible! That's a lie!" Liam roared, shoving away Stella who tried to steady him. "She's just hiding! Even her parents haven't said anything! How dare you say that?!"

Stella stumbled, bumping into a table. Everyone fell silent.

The classmate, annoyed now, broke free. "Have you lost your mind? She's been dead for half a year, and you're putting on this act? Didn't you bring your new girlfriend here?"

All eyes turned to Liam and the mortified Stella beside him. Shock and whispered judgment filled the room.

Liam staggered back, muttering, "No... she wouldn't... she's just mad at me..." Trembling, he pulled out his phone, dialing the number again and again, listening to the endless tone.

The classmate scoffed, grabbed his coat, and left. The party was over.

Liam seemed to jolt awake. Without a glance at the tearful Stella, he pushed through the crowd and ran out.

I floated above, watching the scene. My heart was a still, frozen lake.

Liam, my husband. Over half a year after my death, telling everyone I was just "being dramatic."

His breakdown—how much was shock, how much fear, and how much was that belated guilt he never dared face?

A perfect satire.