My Dead Bestie's Online Boyfriend Is My Fiancé

"Shay, the water is just right. Get in and soak for a while. I'll be there after I finish drying my hair."

Ashton Steele's voice came from the bathroom. Through the steam, he sounded gentle and considerate.

I froze in place.

I stared at the profile picture on the screen and at that account. I had used it for three whole years.

"We shouldn't stay in touch anymore. Let's break up."

I'd just typed every single word moments ago.

The bathroom door opened. Ashton came out wrapped in a bath towel, drying his hair. When he saw me standing stiffly in front of the coffee table, his footsteps faltered.

"What's wrong? Why do you look so pale?" He walked over and habitually reached out to put an arm around my waist.

I stepped back. My lower back slammed into the armrest of the couch. The pain made me wince.

His hand stopped in midair. "Shay?"

His gaze followed mine and fell on the phone lying there with its screen still lit. The next moment, his entire face stiffened.

The phone vibrated again. It was the special notification he had set for that account.

He lunged forward, snatched up the phone, and opened the message with trembling fingers. He stared at those few words and read them three times.

His voice was so faint it was almost inaudible. "No… She wouldn't..."

He started typing, then he deleted the message. He typed again, and then deleted it once more. He couldn't bring himself to send a single word.

Then, he started calling.

Once... Twice... Three times.

In my pocket, Melody's old phone remained completely silent. I had always kept it on silent because I was afraid he'd find out I had been pretending to be someone else's girlfriend online and misunderstand.

"Pick up... Please pick up..." His voice trembled, and his forehead was covered in sweat.

I had never seen him like this.

No, that wasn't true. I had seen it before in his chat with Mel.

When his depression had been at its worst, he'd begged me just like this. He'd desperately pleaded with "her" not to leave.

But in real life, the face he had always shown me was the most polished and impeccable version of himself.

"Ashton," I said.

He didn't react. He was still making calls.

"Ashton!"

His head snapped up. His eyes were bloodshot, and irritation was written all over his face.

"Shut up!" He spat those two words at me in annoyance.

I froze for a second and laughed.

He came to his senses and hurriedly apologized, his tone returning to its usual gentleness and composure. "I'm sorry. I have something to take care of."

After that, he walked toward the bedroom and started rummaging through his clothes.

"What happened?" I asked.

He was dressing so hurriedly that he tore off a button, and he didn't even care.

"It's urgent." Ashton didn't even look at me.

"What's so urgent? We're supposed to go try on wedding dresses tomorrow."

His movements stopped. Finally, he spared me a glance. There was no guilt in his eyes. All they showed was irritation at being held up.

"You can go try on the wedding dresses yourself. Pick whatever style you want. I'll reimburse you."

"Reimburse me?" I repeated the two words. "Ashton, what do you think could be more important than our wedding?"

Hearing that, he pulled a long face. He looked at me as though I were a stranger.

"Shayna, you've always been very understanding. Why are you suddenly so unreasonable now?"

He didn't wait for me to respond. Grabbing his car keys, he slammed the door behind him and left.