In that freezing prison, the inmates tore me apart.

My bones were shattered, and my skin was covered in bruises and blood.

Now someone was calling Murphy to come claim my body.

On the phone, his voice was sharp with scorn. "Juliana Shaffer must have put you up to this, trying to trick me again. She never changes. Even in prison, she can't behave.

"I gave her a death sentence with a two-year reprieve. If she stays quiet and behaves, it might get reduced—she might even walk free one day!

"I gave her a chance. What more does she want?

"Tell her to stop bothering me!"

With that, he hung up impatiently.

I gave a bitter smile.

Even after death, I still had to hear such cruelty.

He was the one who sent me there. Did he really think I'd ever make it out alive?

Did he have any idea I was locked in with the most heinous criminals?

They tortured me day after day, as though acting on someone's command.

For me, death was not punishment. It was freedom.

When I finally tracked Murphy down in my ghost form, he was sitting in an upscale restaurant.

My body was barely cold, and there he was, enjoying a candlelit dinner with a voluptuous, soft‑spoken woman.

They leaned together, sipping red wine, lost in their own little world.

"This place is wonderful, Hails. You've got great taste," he said, his eyes soft with affection.

The scene dragged me back to our last dinner together.

Murphy sneered at the restaurant I chose, as always.

No matter how carefully I tried to match his tastes, he was never satisfied.

"Juliana, what kind of place is this? The food's awful, the service worse!

"Just like you—pathetic," he said sharply.

Too often, our meals ended in bitterness.

Looking back, I realized it was never about the restaurant.

It was about who sat across from him.

Her name was Hailey Reese, his new lover.

She cut his steak, lifted the fork to his mouth.

And he ate with a smile, completely absorbed.

"Murphy." Hailey glanced at her watch, her gaze suggestive. "Why don't you come over to my place tonight?"

"That... doesn't feel right," Murphy said, hesitant.

"Juliana's gone now. It's fine," she coaxed.

Murphy's face twisted, disgust flashing in his eyes. "Don't say that name.

"She bribed the prison staff to lie about her death, then had them call me to claim the corpse.

"I know her trick. She made it up, just hoping I'd show up so she could see me.

"She never lets go, like gum stuck to your shoe. It makes me sick!"

His words cut me to the core. Still, I told myself it was only because he'd lost his memory.

He used to love me deeply.

When Murphy mentioned the prison, a flicker of guilt passed through Hailey's eyes, but he didn't notice.

That night, he brought her home, the place we once shared.

As soon as they stepped inside, Murphy opened the shoe cabinet, and his gaze fell on my pink slippers.

We had bought them together years ago, a matching pair from the supermarket.

Mine were pink, his were gray, and when placed side by side, the patterns formed a heart.

Murphy picked up mine.

I thought he might offer them to Hailey, but he threw them out with a sneer. "Criminal's stuff. It brings bad luck."

I'd always thought death would end pain.

Yet here I was, still feeling that needling ache in my chest.

He then handed Hailey his gray slippers.

"Hails, let's hit the supermarket tomorrow. Get two new pairs and grab some other stuff. All of this needs replacing."

I understood right away.

Murphy wasn't just talking about household items. This home already had a new mistress.

He went to shower while Hailey wandered through the rooms.

The gentle smile she wore for him was gone. Her face was cold, lips curled in contempt as she stared at the golden trophies behind the glass cabinet.

I had been a professional car racer, winning titles on the world stage.

Each trophy had been won with my life on the line, trading heartbeat for speed and glory.

Hailey didn't blink. With a smirk, she shoved the cabinet.

With a crash, the glass shattered, and one trophy snapped in half.

No!

My ghost rushed forward to stop her, but failed.

The noise brought Murphy running from the bathroom, a towel around his waist.

He froze at the wreckage, then hurried forward in alarm.

Hope stirred in me. He knew how much those trophies meant to me.

At some of the races, he'd seen the danger and the thrill. He understood how hard I had fought for them.

More than that, the first thing I did after winning a championship was lift the trophy and propose to him.

His smile had been radiant that day.

It was our most precious memory.

Would Murphy show even a trace of anger?

Would he say anything at all?

But his eyes held only worry for Hailey.

"Oh God. Hails, are you okay? What happened?"

He took her hand and examined it carefully. "Do you want me to take you to the hospital, just to be safe?"

I lowered my gaze. Even my soul felt heavy with sorrow.

Everything about me had been erased from his memory.

All he saw was Hailey.

He no longer cared about me at all.

"I'm fine," she said, putting on a guilty look. "I just wanted a closer look at the trophies, but I hit the cabinet by accident. I'm sorry."

Murphy shook his head. "Don't apologize. They weren't mine anyway. They don't matter."

"Oh, alright."

Hailey knew perfectly well those trophies were mine.

My name was engraved on every base, yet she kept the act, and Murphy suspected nothing.

"They must be Juliana's. It's my fault for breaking her things.

"What if she gets upset when she's out of prison and finds out?" she asked softly.

Murphy's voice hardened. "Forget that evil woman.

"She was jealous of us, drove into your patient, tried to frame you. I must've been blind back then."

Hailey was a psychologist.

The patient they mentioned was a poor boy, abandoned by his parents and tormented by depression and severe mental illness. Hailey had to represent him in court.

Hailey had witnessed the car accident.

That was why Murphy ignored the law and sided with her completely.

To outsiders, he looked impartial, a man willing to sacrifice even family for justice.

What an irony.

After losing his memory, Murphy hated me with all his heart. He believed I had deceived him, that I had refused divorce only to keep him from being with Hailey.

I never signed the divorce papers because I still held on to hope.

Maybe one day he would remember.

But I never imagined he would go this far for her.

When I was accused of the crime, I told Murphy repeatedly that I was innocent, that Hailey was the real killer.

Every piece of evidence against me had been forged by her.

Murphy refused to believe me.

He shoved the papers at me and sneered. "Juliana, I told you to let go, but you wouldn't. You kept getting in the way of Hails and me.

"And now look at you, doing something this sick.

"Don't worry. When the time comes, I won't spare you."

And he kept his word.

At the trial, when he struck the gavel to seal my fate, all hope was gone.

The last thing I said to him was, "If that's your decision, so be it."

I watched as he stepped on my trophy, grinding it into shards.

"Cars. That's all she ever cared about," he spat. "She wrecked my life once, and now a damn hit-and-run.

"I'm getting cleaners in tomorrow to throw all this junk out." He paused, looking around with disgust. "This place needs to be scrubbed clean.

"Marrying her was the worst mistake of my life."

The next day, the cleaners arrived.

"Get rid of everything Juliana left behind," Murphy ordered coldly.

My clothes, shoes, cups, towels...

All of it was tossed like garbage.

Rifling through a drawer in the study, he found a diary.

He meant to throw it too, until his own name on the cover stopped him.

For a moment, he stood frozen, then picked it up, his thumb pressed against the first page.

Just as he was about to read on, Hailey's voice called from outside. "Murphy, are you ready?"

"I'll be right there," he replied quickly.

Murphy shut the diary without another glance and slid it back into the drawer.

He had only skimmed it, barely catching a word.

After clearing out my things, the two of them went shopping, stocking up on household items like a newly married couple.

Hailey pushed the cart while Murphy walked beside her with their arms linked.

Halfway down the aisle, he suddenly frowned.

Perhaps the moment felt familiar to him.

Once, we had done the same, hand in hand at the supermarket.

I would fill the cart with everything he loved, and he would lean close, kiss me, and whisper, "You're so good to me, honey."

That supermarket was the closest to our neighborhood. After work, we often stopped by together.

But after the accident, Murphy never wanted to shop with me again.

Hailey turned and saw him pressing a hand to his forehead.

"What's wrong?" she asked quickly.

"Nothing," he muttered, curling his lip. "Just thought of her. I wonder if prison has knocked some sense into her.

"She really wants me to come...

"Maybe I'll drop by someday. I'm not heartless."

He spoke as if granting a favor, his eyes glinting with self-satisfaction.

I wondered if he'd still be smiling when that day came.

After shopping, they came home and rearranged the house.

What had once been mine was now their love nest. No matter how much it hurt, all I could do was clench my fists. I was nothing but a ghost, powerless to stop them.

How pitiful.

Murphy and Hailey were living together now, with no trace of me left in his life.

One afternoon, while turning the study into Hailey's home office, he opened a drawer and saw the diary again.

He hesitated, but curiosity won.

The house was silent.

Pages rustled as he read, carrying him back to his high school days.

The pronoun "she" appeared repeatedly, recording every detail of her actions with the care of secret love.

He must have been crazy about "her" back then.

Murphy frowned, muttering under his breath.

"Hails? No... that doesn't fit. I met Hails when I was studying abroad..."

He never once thought of me.

Then my name surfaced, and he went pale, his voice breaking.

"Juliana? How the hell could it be her?"

On the page was a line, "Murphy wants to be with Juliana forever."

Next to it rested a pink heart—childish but sincere.

His breath hitched.

As he turned the pages, the diary recalled our life together: our first embrace, our first time holding hands, our first kiss...

Each moment was captured in detail, every line alive with the thrill of youth, enough to make a heart race and a face flush.

Murphy staggered back in disbelief, knocking over a chair.

Next, he collapsed to the floor.

"No... no, this is insane.

"Impossible. Me loving her? That evil woman?"

After his accident, I had told him more than once.

We had been together since high school graduation, enduring the hardest years apart while he studied abroad.

After so much struggle, we finally got married.

But he never believed me.

"This has to be fake. Juliana must've copied my handwriting to trick me. No way!"

Panic flashed in his eyes as he scrambled to his feet, forcing himself to be calm. He tore the diary apart page by page, scattering scraps across the room.

Some pieces passed through my ghostly form before falling to the floor.

I watched silently.

The hurt lingered, but mostly it felt numb.

Unsatisfied, Murphy crushed the pages into wads and tossed them in the trash.

"Liar. Nothing she says is ever true. She thinks some fake diary's gonna make me regret it?" he screamed into the void.

"Juliana, listen. Not happening."

He then stormed out of the study.

In the living room, Hailey's clothes lay on the sofa, their mugs sat on the coffee table, and the carpet had been replaced.

Somehow it felt wrong.

Murphy froze, his expression clouded as he looked around.

These were things he and Hailey had chosen together.

Why did they suddenly feel unbearable to look at?

"Shit, I'm losing it," he muttered, rubbing at his temples.

He grabbed his keys and drove straight to my prison.

His fury was clear; he must have wanted to humiliate me in person.

When he explained himself, the guard looked at him strangely.

"You want to see Juliana?" the guard asked, confused.

"She's gone. We've notified her family. No one came to claim the body, so it was cremated."

Murphy returned from prison with a gloomy face.

Maybe he figured I was ungrateful. He came all that way, and I refused to see him.

Hailey tried to hug him, but he pushed her away, clearly irritated.

"Murphy, who upset you?" she asked softly.

He gave a cold laugh. "Who else could it be?"

"Juliana? But she's already dead..."

She cut herself off, biting her lip.

Murphy's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Already what? Say it."

Hailey forced a wide-eyed look. "She's already sentenced to death and locked away. How could she possibly upset you now?"

His tone eased. "I went to see her today. She wouldn't see me. She even paid the guards to say she'd already been cremated.

"Ridiculous. I don't know how long she thinks she can keep this up."

Hailey studied him carefully. "Murphy, if she really was gone, would you feel sad?"

"Of course not," he said without thinking.

She exhaled softly, relief flickering across her face.

"Juliana may be irritating," he added, "but she doesn't deserve to die."

I didn't deserve to die?

Looking down, I saw myself—see‑through, fading.

I was already gone.

Murphy pressed his lips together. "I gave her two years to change. If she behaves in prison, I will appeal to cut her sentence."

That almost made me laugh. Was I supposed to thank him for that?

Hailey's face darkened, though her voice stayed soft.

"You're too kind, Murphy. After everything she did, you still show her mercy."

He pressed a hand to his forehead, frowning.

"That accident... It's messing with me more now. I keep recalling things that don't add up. Hails, what should I do?"

"Hey, don't think about that. Those memories are gone; let them stay gone."

Her voice had a way of soothing him.

She stroked his head like calming a child.

"You've got me. You don't need to be afraid of anything.

"I care about you more than anyone. If it were me, I'd never have let something like that happen to you."

Her words were laced with blame, mocking me for not keeping Murphy safe.

I had no strength and no voice to defend myself.

The car accident happened not long after Murphy came back to the country, just after our wedding.

I wanted to take him on a road trip. On the highway, a drowsy bus driver caused a chain collision that swept us up.

Many were badly injured, though thankfully, no one died due to a timely rescue.

I spent a week in the ICU before being moved to a ward. The moment I woke up, I asked about Murphy.

The nurse told me he wasn't seriously hurt and had already been discharged.

In that critical moment, I had shielded him with my own body.

But I couldn't believe the nurse. If Murphy had truly been fine, how could he not come to see me? We'd been through so much, and we had just married.

I even braced myself for the worst.

Later, I learned Murphy had suffered a head injury that left him with mild memory loss.

During his recovery, Hailey stayed by his side.

And when he was well again, she arranged his discharge.

When I finally found them, the cold, unfamiliar look in Murphy's eyes hit me hard.

"You're saying you're my wife?" he scoffed. "No way. I'd never have picked you. You don't look reliable at all."

Only when I showed him our marriage certificate did he grudgingly believe me.

Even then, his face twisted with disgust, and he came home with me as if against his will.

Soon, most of his memories returned. He remembered everyone and everything, except me and our past.

I cared for him with all my heart, hoping one day he would remember who I was.

But reality hit hard.

Perhaps because Hailey had been the first to visit him after the accident, and because she was a psychologist, Murphy leaned on her more.

And his rejection of me kept deepening.

He believed that the accident was my fault, the mistake of a reckless racer.

He was certain I had ruined him, forced him into marriage, and taken him from Hailey.

When we fought, he cursed me and told me to die.

Later, he got what he wanted.

With his words, he condemned me to death.

I often wondered what Murphy would feel if his memory ever returned.

When I was alive, I longed for that day, believing he would regret how he treated me.

But now that I was dead, perhaps it would be better if he never remembered at all.

I hoped he would hate me forever, never think of me again.

But fate had other plans.

On his day off that week, Murphy went out with friends.

A car across the street suddenly lost control and hurtled toward him.

Blinding headlights caught his eyes, and he froze.

At the last second, the driver swerved, and the car scraped past him by inches.

His eyes widened as images flashed through his mind.

The last was of me shielding him with my body in the crash, with blood streaming from my forehead.

"Juli..."

His trembling voice calling my name made my ghost shiver.

Had Murphy remembered?