Just as I was about to divorce Sarah and get back with Jessica, BAM, I died! Now, anyone who comes to my grave has to spit on it and say, “Jerk! Got what he deserved!” At my funeral, I sat next to my own body, trying to figure out how exactly I died. My wife, Sarah, was calm and composed, greeting the guests, bowing to each of them, and politely sending them off. She had said she loved me for seven years, but not a single tear had fallen. Turns out, love really can fade away. That’s when my ex, Jessica, arrived. She threw herself onto my casket, sobbing uncontrollably. Her tears were like a waterfall, and the guests around her were moved to tears too. Even I couldn’t help but cry. “Jessica, it’s over for us in this life. Maybe in the next one, we’ll reunite. I’ll be waiting for you in the afterlife.” Sarah wasn’t having any of it, though. “Jessica’s acting is really over the top, huh? Who exactly is she putting on a show for? He’s dead.” Sarah’s icy stare was fixed on Jessica, full of contempt, as if she were looking at an enemy. Jessica wiped her tears, still looking as delicate as ever. “I know you hate me. You think I stole Chris from you. But I was with him first—you’re the one who came later.” Sarah smirked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “And yet, here you are, and there he lies. If your love was so strong, why didn’t it last?” Damn, Sarah was harsh. Was she really cursing Jessica to die too? Sure enough, Jessica, heartbroken, collapsed on my casket, crying as if the world had ended. “I want to go with him, but I still have my parents to take care of. Chris, wait for me. I’ll come to you in a few decades.” She was crying so miserably, yet her assistant, Rachel, just stood there scrolling through her phone without a care in the world. I had always said that Rachel should be fired. Unable to bear Sarah’s mockery, Jessica quickly left. I really didn’t want to leave her, and Sarah’s cold face wasn’t helping, so I followed Jessica out. But by the time I caught up, Jessica had already dried her tears and was checking her makeup in a mirror. She was even giving instructions. “Did you get the photos and videos? Make sure I look good—delete the ugly ones.” Rachel was busy flipping through her phone, deleting the bad shots one by one. All the pictures were of Jessica sobbing over my casket, looking utterly heartbroken. “Don’t worry, Jess. I’ve captured your best angles. We’ll release a video about your tragic love story. It’ll blow up for sure.” Jessica smiled. “Good. This is what they call ‘tragic love.’ Kids these days love a good, sad love story. So what if Sarah married him? After all these years, dead or alive, I’m the only one he truly loved.” Rachel chuckled, “Exactly. Sarah was the third wheel in this relationship.” Jessica wasn’t sad anymore; she was beaming. “Chris was useless when he was alive, but at least in death, he can serve one final purpose. He should be grateful to me for that.” “Absolutely, Chris would totally thank you,” Rachel added. Me: … Thank you? Are you kidding me? Jessica continued rambling, “So what if Sarah loved Chris for seven years? She’s still got nothing to show for it. Some men are just like that. They always think someone else’s trash is treasure.”
After Jessica’s car drove off, I was still floating there, staring dumbfounded in the direction she left. Just a month ago, Jessica swore she couldn’t live without me. I’ve only been dead for a short while—how has the world turned upside down? Lost in thought for who knows how long, I suddenly found myself back in the house I shared with Sarah. She had set up a small memorial for me, with a smiling picture of me at the center. Sarah was wiping the dust off my photo, her smile full of mockery. “It took me forever to find a photo of you smiling. You always had that serious look, but when you were with Jessica, you smiled all the time.” I remembered now. In the seven years I’d known Sarah, she always wanted a nice photo of us together. But every picture we took, I had a stern expression. I told her I didn’t like smiling. If she didn’t like it, tough luck. But the truth was, I just couldn’t smile around her. Even after seven years apart, the one I loved was always Jessica. I waited for her for a year, and when I found out she was seeing someone else, I quickly accepted Sarah’s confession. It was like I was competing with Jessica. I moved in with Sarah and married her in a flash. “You’ve regretted marrying me every second, haven’t you?” Sarah was talking to my photo now, her face still calm, not a single tear. I used to think she wasn’t upset, but looking at her now, I started feeling guilty. It was like she was questioning me, and after seeing Jessica’s true colors, I started to reflect on my past. “No, we had good times together. Don’t you remember…” I tried to say. I wanted to give her examples, but for the life of me, I couldn’t recall any happy moments. Sarah kept talking to herself, “The first month with you was wonderful. It felt like a dream.” “You’d come home late, but you’d always bring me flowers. They weren’t lilies, which I love, but I was happy all the same.” Was she really happy back then? I couldn’t remember, because during that time, Jessica was constantly flaunting her new relationship on Instagram, and I was seething with jealousy. Every night, I’d buy a bouquet of roses, hoping to see Jessica and tell her that she belonged with me, that her new guy didn’t deserve her. But I never had the courage. I’d just wait outside their apartment until late, then go home feeling crushed. Every time I came home, Sarah was waiting for me. I’d lie, saying I had to work overtime. I’d apologize, hand her the roses, and tell her it was the last bunch from the florist, which was why they didn’t look as fresh. In a daze, I remembered that Sarah had been so happy then, smiling like a little girl. But the truth was, I had been lying to her all along. She never knew. If she had known, she wouldn’t have said those were happy times. “I always knew you were lying.”
I couldn’t understand. If Sarah had known I was lying, why didn’t she ever confront me or get angry? Why would she still say those times were happy? “I knew you were lying, but I didn’t say anything because I thought, as long as you were willing to put in the effort to lie, it meant you still cared. You still wanted to keep our relationship alive.” “You kept going back to Jessica because you couldn’t let go. I thought you’d figure it out and come back to me eventually.” Sarah sat on the couch, quietly staring out the window. On all those nights I came home late, this was how she waited for me—full of hope and disappointment. God, I was such a jerk. Sarah sat there all day, not eating or drinking, saying nothing. Watching her lose her spark, I grew anxious. I circled her, trying to wake her up. “Sarah, I’m not worth it. Please, get some rest. Eat something. Don’t do this to yourself.” But I was already dead. No matter what I said, she couldn’t hear me. I regretted it so much—why didn’t I cherish her love when I was alive? The day after the funeral, Sarah finally moved. Michael came over. I knew Michael had always liked Sarah. I wasn’t sure if she knew. Michael was her colleague. They stayed in touch a lot after she joined the company. I remember going to pick Sarah up from a company dinner once. Michael’s look and body language made it clear—he liked her. After that, I didn’t let Sarah spend much time with Michael. I even suggested she switch departments to avoid him. Sarah was my wife. Even if I didn’t love her, she was still mine, in name at least. No other man had the right to touch her. But now I was dead, and Michael couldn’t wait to swoop in? Even though Sarah knew I didn’t love her, she wouldn’t stay faithful to a dead man. I was in pain. I wanted to leave. I didn’t want to stick around and watch her get close to another man. Michael brought a thermos and looked at Sarah with concern. “I knew you hadn’t eaten. Sarah, don’t do this to yourself. You’ll only make yourself sick, and he wouldn’t care.” “He’s probably waiting for his next romantic soulmate right now.” He laid out the food, and I peered in, scoffing. None of it was what Sarah liked. She didn’t eat spicy food, didn’t like sweet stuff, and hated fish. For years, there hadn’t been a single pepper or fish in our house. The only exception was when crabs were in season. Michael claimed to like her, but he didn’t even know what she enjoyed eating. What a joke. I felt smug. No way he’d win her over with this. He wasted his time coming. But Sarah sat down, picked up the chopsticks, and smiled. “This is all my favorite food. Thank you, Michael.”
Sarah ate the Buffalo wings, sweet and sour pork, and the steamed salmon. “You haven’t eaten all day, and now you’re having so much meat and fish. Aren’t you worried you’ll upset your stomach?” I was pacing around, getting more and more irritated the happier she seemed as she ate. “We’ve been together for years, and you never told me you liked this kind of food. Every time we ate together, you said you didn’t like spicy, sweet, or fish dishes. Were you lying to me? Or is it just that it tastes better because Michael brought it? My urn is still sitting right there, and you’re already moving on this fast?” Sarah finished her meal, leaned back, and gave a contented sigh. “It’s been years since I’ve enjoyed food like this. Thank you, Michael.” Michael sighed too. “You changed your entire diet for him. Was it really worth it?” I was dumbstruck. “For me?” Memories started flooding back. I remembered when Sarah and I first met—back then, she was full of life, always laughing, and she loved food. She ate spicy food, sweet things, and fish. She even had a bit of a sweet tooth, and every time we went out, she’d grab a bunch of snacks.
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