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.
“Why is your attachment unresolved?” a voice asked. I turned. It was the guide. I asked him when I could leave. “That depends on you,” he said, granting me the ability to leave Liam’s side for a while each day. “Perhaps the truth will set you free.” Since that night, Liam seemed normal on the surface. He worked, came home, ate dinner. But I knew he was mad. He slept in our bed, tucking in the empty space beside him. “Goodnight, Shannon.” Leaving the house: “Shannon, I’m heading out.” Returning home: “Shannon, I’m back.” At meals, he set two places, piling food onto the empty plate. “Shannon, eat more, you love this.” But Shannon was dead. And I didn’t love that food anymore. He came home late today, with Stella following him. She had ambushed him at work, desperate to talk. He finally brought her home. “What do you want?” he asked, his eyes empty. “Liam, don’t you love me anymore? Were your promises lies?” Liam was moved. His hollow eyes flickered. I sneered. I knew his so-called devotion was just self-delusion. In the end, he held her as he cried, and she comforted him. “I’m sorry,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I’m in a bad place. Can you wait?” “Is it because of her?” He nodded. “I can’t believe she’s gone. We were together seven years. I just… need time.” “I understand. I’ll wait. We’ve waited so long already.” She smiled through tears. Her understanding seemed to pain him. They held each other for a long time before he sent her home. “Shannon… you won’t blame me, will you?” he said to the air afterward, full of remorse. Disgusting. Hypocritical and nauseating.
Watching him, the buried memories surged back. I never wanted to marry. When the family business was crippled, I agreed to a marriage of convenience. I expected a distant partnership, but Liam spoiled me utterly. Just when I fell for him, his first love returned. I didn’t know about Stella, only heard her mentioned by his friends. They said she was brilliant, studied abroad. Once, they wondered if she was married now. Liam sharply cut them off. The topic changed instantly. That was my first clue. He had been angry. Now I knew why. He couldn’t stand the thought of Stella belonging to someone else. Two months after Stella’s return, Liam started coming home less. First late nights, then days without a word. He hadn’t been back in a week. My calls went unanswered. I went to his office. He wasn’t there. His assistant finally gave me the name of a romantic restaurant. My heart sank. I found them in a hotel lobby, intimate, fingers intertwined. I walked over, then stopped cold, staring at a face that resembled mine by eighty percent. I ignored the panic on Liam’s face. [After a moment, Stella smiled and walked toward me. She extended her hand. “You must be Shannon. Thank you for taking care of Liam for me all these years.”]
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