Chapter 2

Dustin immediately jumped up and looked at Daddy eagerly.

"Daddy, I want to eat that strawberry cake!"

Daddy froze. When he spoke, his voice was tight, as if those words were being dragged out of him.

"This cake is for—"

He cut himself off, as if a hand had suddenly squeezed his throat.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep, heavy breath. When he opened them again, he forced a strained, exhausted smile.

"Alright, you can have the cake."

Dustin let out a triumphant cheer.

Floating in the air, I felt a sharp, agonizing stab in my heart—even though it had already stopped beating. The pain was a thousand times worse than being burned alive in that oven.

Dad used to tell me that Mommy cheated because I was too greedy. So why was he buying cake for Dustin now?

Dustin happily devoured the cake.

Noticing Daddy staring blankly toward the kitchen, he put on a fake look of concern. "Daddy, should we call Julian out to eat? He might be hungry."

Those words instantly shattered Dad's fragile composure.

He tore his gaze away and snapped, "Leave him be! When he gets hungry enough, he'll come out on his own. He's not a toddler anymore—nobody's going to beg him to eat!"

The more he spoke, the angrier he got. Suddenly, he spun toward the kitchen and yelled at the top of his lungs, "Stop playing dead, you ungrateful brat! You're just like your mother—always pretending!

"You can rot in there for all I care! Don't expect me to beg you to come out. You and your mother can both drop dead!"

But Daddy, I was already dead.

Daddy was completely unraveling. Even after he finished screaming, he was shaking uncontrollably. Suddenly, his legs gave out and he pitched backward.

He collapsed heavily onto the floor, unconscious.

I lunged forward in horror, trying to catch him, but my ghostly hands passed right through his body.

All I could do was watch helplessly as he lay there unconscious.

I was such a terrible son. Not only did I ruin Daddy's life while I was still alive, but I was still causing him pain even after dying.

Dustin was stunned by the sudden collapse. It took him a few seconds before he frantically grabbed the phone and dialed 911.

The paramedics arrived quickly and lifted Daddy onto a stretcher.

Once again, the house fell deathly silent. My gaze drifted back toward the dining table.

Half of the strawberry cake was still sitting on the plate. The sweet, bright-red glaze now looked like a drop of dried blood.

A wave of nausea hit me, and I gagged.

"Sorry, Daddy. I'll never ask for cake again."

…

When my grandma, Cecelia Aldrich, heard Daddy had collapsed, she rushed over to take care of him.

Even though Daddy passed by the kitchen door countless times after returning home from the hospital, he never opened it once. He wouldn't let anyone else near the kitchen, either.

Seeing him like this, Grandma cautiously tried to talk sense into him.

"Peter, let Julian out. How can you blame him for what happened between you and Charlotte?"

Grandma gently rubbed Daddy's back and said softly, "Julian is just a little boy. Don't lock him up like this until he's completely traumatized."

Daddy stood frozen in place.

His lips were pressed into a tight line, his eyes fixed on the kitchen door.

I knew he was still angry with me.

But Daddy, I was already dead.

A dead child couldn't just open the oven door and apologize.

Seeing that Daddy remained unmoved, Grandma let out a heavy sigh. She walked over and reached for the kitchen door handle.

"Julian? Sweetheart, come on out. Don't be afraid. I'm here," she called out gently.

However, silence was the only answer she received.

Grandma's brow furrowed. She turned the handle and pushed the door open.

As soon as it cracked open, a sickening, unnatural stench poured out into the hallway.

It was the smell of scorched flesh left to rot in an airtight box for days.

It was the smell of me.

Grandma's expression changed drastically.