Brandon was on a private yacht vacation with his mistress when a tsunami hit. Rescue workers searched for three days and three nights, finally recovering half of his remains. In his clenched palm was a diamond ring. They said he was about to propose to his beloved before the tsunami struck. But apart from his body, no other woman was found at the scene. Until I, his legal wife, arrived after hearing the news. When I went to handle Brandon’s funeral arrangements, I saw his ghost standing to the side. I didn’t cry. I didn’t even ask anyone to prepare his body. That severed half of him was bloated and white from the water, unrecognizable. Only the ring clutched in his palm glittered harshly under the stark white lights. A staff member asked, “Would you like us to remove it?” I shook my head. “No need. Let him keep his keepsake.” It wasn’t for me anyway. The procedures were handled quickly. I chose the fastest crematorium, the cheapest package, and skipped all the farewell ceremonies. Brandon’s ghost hovered beside me, watching his body being pushed into the raging fire. His translucent form trembled like a leaf in the wind. “Stella, you venomous bitch! Is this how you treat me?” I ignored him and walked to the urn display area. A sales assistant eagerly approached me, gesturing to rows of polished mahogany and marble urns. “Mrs. Stone, my condolences. Look at this model, it’s our finest. It has good feng shui, blesses future generations, keeps warm in winter and cool in summer…” Brandon’s ghost immediately floated over, circling the most expensive mahogany urn. “I want this one, Stella, do you hear me? I want this one!” “I’ve never lived in such a cheap place my whole life. You can’t mistreat me even after I die!” I looked at the long string of zeros on the price tag and asked the sales assistant expressionlessly, “Do you have anything cheaper?” The sales assistant’s smile froze. Brandon’s ghost was stunned too. “Like, something free,” I added. The sales assistant awkwardly pulled out a bare wooden box from the bottom corner, whispering, “According to regulations, cremation comes with a basic urn, which is this one.” It looked like a shoddy cardboard box. Brandon was furious. “Stella, you wouldn’t dare!” “You didn’t mind the cost when you spent my money! Now that I’m dead, you can’t even buy me a proper box?” “You cold-hearted snake!” I stared at the free wooden box, seriously considering it for a few seconds. Then, I told the sales assistant, “I don’t need the box. A sturdy bag will do.” After all, a box would just take up space. A bag was easier.
Clutching that freshly cremated, still warm bag of ashes, I walked out of the crematorium. Brandon’s ghost trailed behind me, like a persistent phantom. His curses hadn’t stopped the entire way. “Stella, may you rot in hell!” “I must have been blind to marry a woman like you. You’re not even worth a single strand of Chloe’s hair!” “You’re old and ugly, and your personality is so vile. No wonder I never wanted to come home!” I opened the car door and tossed the bag of ashes onto the passenger seat. Brandon’s ghost tried to sit inside but passed straight through, stumbling. He was now just an intangible mass of energy, unable to touch anything. This made him even more agitated. He floated outside the car window, flailing at me. “Do you think the company is yours now that I’m dead? I already made a will. Everything I own goes to Chloe! You won’t get a single cent!” I started the car, my expression unchanging, and turned on the stereo. Deafening rock music instantly drowned out his screams. As the car sped onto the highway, I rolled down the window. The wind rushed in, making my hair whip around. Brandon’s ghost was blown haphazardly by the wind, like a torn kite. He was still cursing. Accusing me of being cold and heartless, saying I’d been wishing for his death all along. He wasn’t wrong. I had wished for his death every single day. I just never expected it to come so soon, and with such satisfying finality. Back at our sprawling, empty villa, I tossed the bag of ashes onto the console table by the entrance and went straight upstairs for a shower. Hot water washed over my body. I closed my eyes, feeling the fatigue of the past few days melt away. Brandon’s ghost passed through the bathroom door, hovering above the bathtub, glaring down at me. “Stella, you’re in the mood for a shower? Are you really that happy to see me dead?” I opened my eyes and looked at him calmly through the rising steam. It was the first time I’d truly looked at him since his death. “Yes,” I said. “Very happy.” “You!” His ghost trembled with rage. “You bitch!” “Where’s Chloe? My Chloe? Where is she? She must be heartbroken, she loved me so much… Where have you hidden her?” He finally got to the point. I turned off the shower, dried myself, and slowly put on my robe. Throughout the entire process, Brandon’s ghost shrieked, cursed, and demanded Chloe’s whereabouts. He firmly believed that his beloved girl must be devastated by his loss.
I walked out of the bathroom, picked up the bag of ashes from the console table, poured a glass of red wine, and sat on the living room sofa. Brandon’s ghost impatiently floated back and forth in front of me. “Stella, speak! Where is Chloe?” “Did you hurt her? You wicked woman are capable of anything!” I swirled the red wine in my glass, the crimson liquid forming elegant arcs against the crystal. I chuckled softly. “Brandon, do you really think Chloe would die for you?” “Of course she would!” he roared without thinking. “She loved me more than anything! We were true love! Not like you, you only loved my money!” “Is that so?” I put down my wine glass, opened my phone, and played a video. The video footage was a bit shaky, clearly taken secretly. The background showed the clear blue sea and sky, along with the yacht Brandon had bought for Chloe, named “My Beloved Chloe.” In the video, a few hours before the tsunami hit, a private helicopter landed steadily on the yacht’s helipad. Chloe, wearing a bikini, intimately linked arms with a man younger and more handsome than Brandon, and boarded the helicopter. She even looked back, towards the yacht, a bright, scornful smile on her face. There wasn’t a hint of reluctance in that smile. “See?” I turned the phone screen towards Brandon’s direction. “Before the tsunami came, your little mistress was picked up by another man.” “When she left, the weather was clear, and the sea was calm.” “She left you alone, along with your ‘true love,’ on that boat.”
Brandon’s ghost stared intently at the phone screen. For the first time, a bewildered, fractured expression appeared on his translucent face. “No… impossible…” “This is fake! You fabricated it!” He lunged at me, but again passed straight through my body. He screamed in despair, “You’re lying! Chloe isn’t like that, she’s pure and kind, she said she’d only ever love me!” I retrieved my phone and took a sip of red wine. “Brandon, you’re truly pathetic.” “You thought you found pure, untainted love. In reality, you were just another fish in her pond.” “And one that was about to be discarded.” I leaned back on the sofa, watching him with calm composure. “Do you know who the man who picked her up was? Dylan Stone, the young heir of the Stone Group, just returned from overseas. Richer than you, younger than you, and more capable of making her a huge star.” “And you, a man nearing forty, whose career is starting to decline, and who can’t even get a divorce because of me—what advantages do you think you have?” “You’re lying! You’re talking nonsense!” Brandon roared wildly, beginning to belittle me, something he excelled at during our ten years of marriage. “Stella, you’re just jealous! You’re jealous Chloe is younger and prettier than you, jealous that I love her and not you!” “Look at yourself now, you look like a bitter old wife! No wonder I didn’t even want to touch you!” “Chloe is different, she’s so wonderful, so innocent. Her eyes were full of adoration and love for me! She willingly endured the pain of not having a title just for me!” “She said, once I divorced you, she’d have my child!” He spoke with such sincerity, trying to convince me, and himself. I listened to his grating words, my heart completely unmoved. I’d heard such things too many times in the past. Now, I just found it noisy. “Are you done?” I asked. He froze. I stood up, picking up the bag of ashes. “Since your Chloe is so amazing,” I said with a smile, walking towards the back door, “then you should know she’s currently at a celebration party Dylan Stone is throwing for her, celebrating landing a major international endorsement.” “And you,” I paused, “you don’t even qualify for a black and white memorial photo on her Ins.” Brandon’s ghost completely stiffened. He watched me push open the back door and walk towards the septic tank in the corner. He seemed to sense something, his ghost trembling more violently than ever.
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