Chapter 3

Connor sounded afraid as he asked, "Could something have gone wrong?"

"Let's wait a little longer. We'll call the police if we still can't contact the next of kin," Gideon said. He was prepared for the worst.

After a couple of days, they still couldn't reach my family. Left with no choice, they called the police. A forensic doctor arrived with the police.

When he saw my disassembled body, he immediately said, "The body shows signs of corrosion—the skin is red and has boils. This is death caused by strong acid poisoning! The victim is a woman between 23 to 27 years old. She even had a manicure."

Connor looked at my nails. "Madeline likes getting her nails done in this color, too. Doesn't she, Gideon?"

Only when everyone looked at him did he realize he'd said the wrong thing. He hurriedly backtracked. "I was talking nonsense! Forget I ever said anything."

Gideon didn't look bothered. "It's fine. Plenty of people have their nails done in this color."

The police took my disassembled body with them, and everyone had their statement taken.

To my surprise, Gideon went home that night after leaving the police station. Perhaps it was because of the manicure. I looked around the apartment nostalgically—this was my and Gideon's home. Everything was still how it had been before our argument; there were memories of our past everywhere I looked.

The air was musty. It had only been half a month since anyone had entered the apartment, yet it already felt abandoned. Gideon didn't seem to notice, though. He headed to the master bedroom and pulled out a box storing his documents and identification.

There was also a ring inside it—his wedding band. Due to his job, he wasn't allowed to wear rings. So, he rarely wore it and usually stored it in the box. He picked it up and scrutinized it, feeling a little doubtful.

"This ring looks a lot like the one on that body…" he mumbled. Then, he shook his head. "It can't be her. I'm overthinking this."

He retrieved his ID from the box and sat on the couch, seemingly waiting for me to return. His phone rang, breaking the silence. He answered it and heard Nancy say, "Gideon, I'm scared. I saw on the news that a female corpse was discovered a few days ago. I'm terrified there are bad people out there."

He said soothingly, "You'll be fine, okay? Don't be scared. I'll be right there."

"Can't she go to the cops?" I mocked. This was something I'd done whenever Nancy had asked Gideon to go to her. It was too bad he couldn't hear me anymore.

It wasn't that I wasn't disappointed in Gideon. It had never occurred to him that I would also be scared whenever Nancy was scared, that I would also need help when she needed it.

He'd never once chosen me. Sometimes, I couldn't help wondering whether he would've chosen to marry me if Nancy hadn't married someone else. Then again, I was already dead. I didn't see any point in obsessing over these things anymore.

The night I'd died, I'd called Gideon for help, telling him that I felt like there was someone in the living room. I'd asked him to return to check whether someone had broken in.

Yet all he'd told me was to stop being unreasonable. He'd sounded tired and hoarse as he'd said, "Nancy just had a miscarriage, Madeline. She needs someone by her side."

That had made me break down, but I still hadn't dared to raise my voice. "I need someone by my side, too! I can seriously hear someone in the living room!"

"Stop it! Can't you go to the cops?" Gideon had hung up after that. I'd stared at my phone, feeling devastated. My husband had chosen to stay by another woman's side when I needed him most.

I didn't remember what happened after that. When I next opened my eyes, I realized I'd turned into a ghost and could only follow Gideon. I supposed that meant I'd died.