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"Oh...pitiful,sure...but take care of yourself,"she replied.
I froze,watching them chat like close friends,or even a couple in love.My heart plummeted and shattered.
I never imagined that Michael's new assistant was Clara Harper...
Clara frowned,even with a mask on, she covered her nose,stepping away from the table.
Clara's brows furrowed tightly as she glanced at my body with disdain. She covered her nose and mouth, backing away from the gurney.
Her gaze, filled with revulsion, swept over the corpse—until she stopped cold.
Something had struck her. Her expression faltered, and the light drained from her eyes.
I followed her line of sight—it was the pale impression of a ring on my left ring finger.
Michael noticed her pause,asking gently,"What's wrong,Clara?Feeling off again?Don't look—I'll finish soon,then I’ll take you and Timmy to dinner!"
Clara hesitated,eventually she decided to stay silent.
"Okay..."She shuffled out.
I could see Michael’s smile even with his mask on.
I crouched beside him, my heart aching like it had been slashed with a knife.
I didn’t understand—nor could I resign myself to it.
If you loved Clara so much,
why didn’t you wait for her?
Why did you marry me?
Why did you leave me at the very moment I felt truly happy?
And still, you said—you loved me…
Perhaps Clara’s arrival had shaken something in Michael.
The needle danced faster and faster in his hands—almost like he wanted it all over with.
The result was a swollen, unrecognizable face.
Still, he studied it with care, gently applying makeup.
But when his brush reached my eyes, his hand froze.
I have a red mole at the corner of my eye.
Michael called it a beauty mark,kissing it during intimate moments,whispering,"Emily,this is the mark of god, telling me you’re my only one and only true love."
His voice still echoed in my ears.
But now, even as this face was restored by his own hands—
He didn’t recognize me.
Perhaps it was the sight of that familiar mole that made him pause.
He inhaled sharply, then let out a long breath.
“Hm... this woman looks kind of familiar…” he murmured.
I almost couldn’t help but laugh—
Not at him, but at myself.
Laughing at how foolishly, hopelessly in love I was.
In the end, all I amounted to in his eyes…
Was someone vaguely familiar.
Once Michael had repaired me enough to resemble a human again, he contacted the crematorium, then got ready to change clothes for his date.
But just then, the female officer pushed the door open again.
"Mr.Reed,don't send her yet.The case has a lead."
Michael was surprised,and I was shocked.
A hit-and-run accident,wasn't it?
What lead?
That night,Michael's mom had broken her leg.The ambulance was an hour away.
I,closest at half an hour's drive,rushed to her and tried to take her to the hospital.
After parking my car,I ran through the rain.
All I remembered was the glare of headlights beaming toward me, followed by the screech of brakes and the thunderous crack of lightning.
Then—I hit the ground, hard.
And just like that, my life ended.
I don’t know when my soul emerged.
I only began to sense my own death when the flashing lights of the police cars reflected endlessly in the darkness.
That’s when I realized—
I had become a restless spirit.
Just now, the female officer mentioned that there might be a breakthrough in the case.
What kind of breakthrough?
She didn’t explain further, only helped her colleagues move my body back to the morgue at the precinct.
Michael’s work was done.
He had taken off his protective gear, cleaned himself up—
and Clara was already waiting at the door for him.
She wore a tight red dress, her long wavy hair cascading over her shoulders, exuding the charm of a mature woman.
I had to admit—Clara was beautiful.
But still, why did her ex-husband divorce her?
Someone like her should have been cherished, adored—just like how Michael treated her now.
As for me—there was nothing about me that resembled Clara.
I always wore my hair short, dressed in loose suits, never wore makeup—just sunscreen.
From looks to temperament, Clara and I were totally different.
So...
I wasn’t even a stand-in.
Michael just wanted a change of taste.
And only after everything had fallen apart did he realize—the one he truly loved was always someone like Clara.
“Mike, what’s wrong? Are you tired?” Clara asked softly, rising onto her toes to lean against his arm.
Only then did I notice—Michael’s face looked pale.
Sweat was pouring down his forehead.
He raised the arm Clara held,rubbing his head.
"Yeah...suddenly not feeling great.I might skip dinner.I...want to go home and check on Emily."
Clara frowned,lips pouting."Ugh...It's Timmy's birthday! You promised Timmy you’re gonna be there for him."
Michael smiled indulgently,pulled out his phone,and sent a text.
"Okay,okay,but Clara,you've been in the hospital for two weeks,and Emily hasn't contacted me once.I'm worried..."
