What Happens In 'Sex, Death, And Fly-Fishing' Ending?

My best friend, Dominic Vale, and his girlfriend have created a couple's channel. Lately, their channel has gone viral on the Internet. I subscribe to their channel instantly. Every time they upload a new reel, I'll always watch it. But I keep having a feeling that Dominic's girlfriend, whose looks are censored in the videos, acts just like my wife, Cara Hartley. When I bring it up in front of Dominic, he punches me in the chest. "Oliver Beckett, you lovesick bastard! You see your darling wife in everyone! At this point, I'm going to get really jealous!" I just chuckle stupidly while rubbing my chest. Then, I quickly change the topic. When Cara's company goes on a field trip, I decide to drag Dominic along. Unexpectedly, something occurs during our flight back to the city. An air stewardess distributes notes to all the passengers so that we can write down our wills. With a trembling hand, I finish scribbling my note. When I glance at Dominic and Cara, I realize that they've written each other's names on their notes. Then, Cara turns on her camera, which shows both her and Dominic in the same frame. "Dominic, I'm very happy that I get to be with you during my final moments in life. Everyone, we won't be updating this channel anymore. Goodbye." But she fails to notice the way my face has gone pale outside the frame. Thankfully, the plane lands safely on the tarmac. All of us are still alive. Instead of kicking up a ruckus, I tear the note in my hands before opening the car door. "What are you still standing around for? Get in."

A group of unwelcome visitors suddenly show up at a relative's funeral. The man in the lead claims to be my wife's boyfriend and wants to punish me. Apparently, I'm her fresh-faced lover. I don't want this to turn into a big deal because we're at a funeral, so I tell him we'll settle this after everything's over. Unexpectedly, my wife's boyfriend causes a huge fuss and instructs his men to pin me to the ground, wanting me to get on my knees and grovel at his feet. The rest of my relatives are unmoved by this. They watch as my legs get broken. I sneer and say, "Your girlfriend bought this urn for my mom. She spent a fortune on this, you know!" Sure enough, the man is furious. He clamors and wreaks havoc, ultimately smashing the urn to pieces. "How dare you parasites latch onto my girlfriend and try to exploit her! Don't think you're getting a cent out of her!" What he doesn't know is that the "mom" whose funeral is being held is my wife's mother and my mother-in-law. The funeral that is crashing is hers, and her urn is the one he's just smashed.

Two years after the death of my husband, John Foster, I get a video call from him—except it's him from five years in the future. "John! You're still alive! Tell me where you are. I'm coming now to bring you home!" Crying tears of joy, I scramble to pick up the car keys I dropped, only to hear him say, "Actually, I faked my death to be with your friend…" As my mind goes blank, he continues to tell me everything as if none of it is a big deal. "I attended my funeral. The whole time you were crying beside my casket, I was in the back room with Adaline, getting it on with her. You thought her eyes were red because she was crying in grief. "Oh, my mother and our son know that I faked my death, too. Every year, they've found all kinds of excuses to come spend time with us instead…" My blood turns cold. My hand shakes as I clutch the phone. Meanwhile, John exhales, looking like he has taken a load off his chest. "I've already told you the truth about everything now, Cecilia, so it's up to you whether you want to continue living like a widow."

My husband was in the late stages of liver cancer. Afraid of dragging me down, he committed suicide by jumping into the river. I couldn’t swim, but I dove in after him without hesitation. To give him the will to live on, I told him about winning the lottery. He pretended to struggle but took the chance to shove me underwater, drowning me. Before I could rest in peace, he ran off abroad with his first love using my money. Only then did I realize that he had planned to fake his death all along just to get rid of me! When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day he jumped into the river. You wanted to die, huh? Well, let me help you with that!

In the third year after my fiancée, Iris Ford, falls off a cliff during a sketching trip in the mountains, I accidentally walk into her personal art exhibition. The person I have longed for day and night is right there, gently adjusting the scarf of the young man beside her. The walls are covered with portraits she once promises to paint only for me, but every subject of her paintings is that young man. Violet Bardot, Iris' best friend and the one who once helps me handle her funeral affairs, grabs me anxiously. "Graham, don't do anything rash. Iris has her reasons. After Jack Glenwood saved her, she suffered from a head injury and lost her memory. She didn't mean to stay away." I smile at how ridiculous she is. "It's one thing if Iris lost her memories, but did you lose yours too? Since Iris is still alive, why do you not bring her back? You've watched me live in pain and misery for three years. I had to rely on sleeping pills just to get by. Do you find that amusing?" Violet falls silent and doesn't dare to look at me again. The young man named Jack hides behind Iris timidly. In the next moment, Iris turns to look at me with a frosty expression. "Mr. Stevens, I do not wish to go back. The person I love now is Jack. Since I've forgotten my past, just treat it as memories from a previous lifetime."

At our first anniversary celebration, my wife publicly announced that she was divorcing me to marry her true love. My past mission targets coldly watched me, thinking I would cause a ruckus and trouble Ivan Lowe like I always had. However, I merely walked over to a nearby lake and jumped into it. Unbeknownst to them, Serena Gale was my very last mission target. If I failed, I was supposed to go home. So, why did they only begin to regret their choices after I finally died?