After I died, my grandmother developed a mental illness.

Whenever she had an episode, she'd forget that I was gone and would wander over to Adrian's house, knocking on his door.

Lucky for him, he left the country right after I had broken up with him.

But this time, the door opened.

"Adrian, have you seen Violet? I can't find her anywhere," she asked, her voice trembling.

Adrian's reply came sharp and cold from inside. "Don't mention her name to me. I never want to see her again."

The door slammed shut. I watched as my grandmother's frail frame shook.

She turned slowly and began to walk away, mumbling to herself, "Violet and Adrian had a fight... No, wait. Violet is gone. Why do I keep forgetting?"

1

It had been five years since I died. My obsession with the world wouldn't let me move on, so I'd been wandering aimlessly ever since.

As a ghost, I spent my days hovering around my grandmother, watching her unravel, piece by fragile piece.

I saw it all—how the weight of my death slowly broke her. She couldn't accept it.

Her mind fractured, her memories slipping through her fingers like sand.

She'd forget, over and over again, that I would never come back again.

Every time she made my favorite meal and realized I wasn't there to eat it, she'd rush off to Adrian Steele's place, convinced she could find me.

Thankfully, after I dumped him five years ago, Adrian left the country.

So each time she knocked on his door, there was no one to answer.

Lately, her condition had gotten worse.

Today, just like every other day, she darted out the door, her panic rising like a wave.

I followed close behind, watching as she hurried through the busy streets, crossed the intersections, and finally stopped in front of an old apartment building.

We took the elevator up, and soon she was at Adrian's door, knocking again.

Adrian had left after I broke up with him.

No one had lived in this apartment for five years.

I sighed.

She knocked again.

"No one's going to answer."

But to my surprise, the door creaked open.

The next moment, my grandmother's voice echoed in the hallway—she called out the name I dreaded hearing, even after death.

"Adrian! Have you seen Violet?"

2

Five years had passed, but Adrian hadn't changed much. He was still cold, still ridiculously handsome.

If anything, time had made him even more striking—more composed, more magnetic.

When he saw who it was, his expression hardened, and his voice came out sharp, laced with sarcasm.

"Violet Brooks? The gold digger who dumped me? I haven't seen her since."

My grandmother didn't hesitate to defend me.

"That's not true! Violet never left you. Because—"

Panic surged through me. I couldn't let her reveal the truth behind our breakup. I reached out, trying to stop her.

But the next second, she clutched her head, confused, her voice trailing off. "What was it again... I can't remember..."

I knew it—she was having another episode.

Adrian's eyes were cold, his tone harsher than I remembered.

"Enough with the act. Leave."

And then the door slammed shut.

I rushed forward, desperate to help, but I was a ghost—just a useless, drifting spirit.

I could only watch helplessly as my grandmother collapsed on the ground, her body shaking with pain.

No matter how much I screamed, no one could hear me.

I stood there, staring at the door. My heart sank.

I didn't blame Adrian. After all, I was the one who broke his heart.

3

Adrian had hated me for years—hated me for leaving him, for choosing someone else. It was no wonder he wouldn't see my grandmother.

After he kicked her out, I followed her back home to the emptiness of her house.

But after seeing Adrian that day, something inside me shifted. My soul, like it was tethered to him, couldn't stay away.

I found myself drifting back to him, following him to our old university, where he was giving a speech as a successful entrepreneur.

He stood on that stage, confident, his every word captivating the crowd.

He was mesmerizing, almost impossible to look away from.

I watched him, my chest tightening.

The man on that stage was so far from the boy I used to know, yet somehow... they were the same.

I could still see the traces of him, buried beneath the layers of success and time.

Tears welled up in my eyes. We were worlds apart now, with no future and no second chances.

As his speech ended, a young woman approached him with a book in hand, and my heart nearly stopped.

No! Adrian couldn't see her. He couldn't see that book!

I moved closer, my instincts taking over.

"Adrian, this is my favorite book by an author from your class! Could you get her autograph for me?"

Through the gaps in the crowd, I caught a glimpse of the cover, and my blood ran cold.

"No, no, no. Don't let him see it!"

I rushed toward him, but it was too late.

Adrian took the book, his face unreadable, and started flipping through the pages.

I tried to stop him, my hands passing uselessly through the pages.

The words leapt off the paper, clear as day.

"Please, don't look..."

But I couldn't stop him. I hovered there, feeling a pain so deep it was suffocating.

That book was our story. My story.

But I'd died before it was finished.

The novel painted our love as something epic, something beautiful.

Every moment we'd shared, every bit of passion, was laid bare on those pages, woven together like a tapestry of rose-colored memories.

Each word on those pages was soaked in the overwhelming love I had for Adrian, a love so intense it could move mountains and stir the heavens.

But I knew—Adrian didn't see it that way.

To him, it was all lies, a romanticized version of something that had been shallow and fleeting.

He must think I was glorifying a love that had never been real.

I couldn't bear to look at his face, but I could hear him flipping through the pages faster and faster, his patience thinning.

The tension in my chest grew unbearable.

I looked up cautiously, and there it was—his brow furrowed, his face darkening with each word.

Suddenly, Adrian lifted his head, and his eyes locked with mine, as if he could see me there, hovering in the air.

The hatred in his gaze hit me like a punch to the gut. I drifted back, my body trembling with fear.

He slammed the book shut, his jaw tight, and cursed under his breath. "Damn it."

Then, without a word, he stormed out of the auditorium, calling out to his assistant.

"Get me in touch with the author. I want the copyright for this book. Now."

4

I trudged back home, my mind filled with the image of Adrian's furious face from earlier.

"He must hate me so much," I whispered under my breath.

"Is he really that desperate to find the author of that book just so he can humiliate me in front of everyone?"

A bitter laugh escaped my lips, and I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes.

"Too bad... he'll never find me."

I shook my head at myself, lost in my thoughts as I pushed open the door—only to find the house empty. My grandmother was gone.

A chill of unease swept over me. I quickly searched the area around the house—nothing.

Then I went to the grocery store and the market, her usual spots—still no sign of her.

Panic twisted in my chest. Where could she have gone?

An idea crossed my mind, and dread settled in. I hurried toward Adrian's place, a gnawing anxiety building with every step.

And sure enough—there she was, knocking frantically at Adrian's door, calling out my name over and over.

My heart clenched painfully. I wanted to reach out, to stop her, to do anything, but I was powerless. Again.

Finally, the door creaked open.

But it wasn't Adrian who stepped out. It was her.

The moment I saw her, a cold shiver ran down my spine.

Bianca Cross.

Why was she at Adrian's house?

Bianca had been one of our high school classmates, and she had pursued Adrian relentlessly back then.

But Adrian had rejected her. He told her he liked me, and that was the end of it. Or so I thought.

But here she was, standing in his home, like she belonged.

Memories flashed in my mind—memories of the way Bianca had looked at me, so smug, so cruel, right before I died.

The look in her eyes was as cold as ever, and the fear it ignited within me was overwhelming.

But how could I still have fear? Did that make any sense? How could I still be feeling anything?

I was just a ghost.

My grandmother froze too when she saw Bianca. She narrowed her eyes, confusion crossing her face.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Why are you in Adrian's house? Where's my Violet?"

Bianca's lips curled into a smug, condescending smile as she eyed my grandmother up and down with barely hidden contempt.

"There's no one here by that name, old lady. You need to leave."

My grandmother's face flushed with anger, and she grabbed Bianca by the sleeve, yanking her toward the door.

"You rude girl! Are you trying to seduce Adrian?! Get out of his house!"

Bianca staggered back, her eyes flaring with anger. She shoved my grandmother violently, sending her tumbling to the ground.

"You crazy old woman! Stop causing trouble!"

"No!" I screamed, my chest tightening with helpless rage as I rushed forward, trying to help my grandmother, but my hands passed through her.

I clenched my fists, trembling with fury. If I had been alive, I would've torn Bianca apart for what she just did. But there was nothing I could do.

Just then, a familiar voice echoed from inside the house.

"What's going on?"

Bianca's expression softened instantly. She clung to Adrian's arm, her voice dripping with fake tears.

"Adrian, this old woman attacked me!"

I stared at her in disbelief and then looked at Adrian.

He stood there in the doorway, dressed in a gray robe, his collar slightly open, revealing a red mark on his neck.

I froze, my eyes locked onto that mark.

They were... together?

Adrian's face darkened as soon as he saw my grandmother.

"What are you doing here again?"

"I'm looking for Violet," my grandmother stammered, her voice trembling with panic.

Then she pointed at Bianca, her expression turning to fury.

"Who is she? Why is she in your house? Did you betray Violet?"

"I betrayed her?" Adrian suddenly shouted, his voice booming through the room. His expression twisted with anger.

"Violet was the one who left me! She's the one who betrayed me for something better!"

My grandmother flinched at his words, her face turning pale. She shook her head desperately, trying to explain.

"No, that's not true... Violet didn't betray you... She didn't... She just... she just..."

But my grandmother's voice faltered as she clutched her head, lost in her memories again, unable to remember the rest.

Adrian stared at her coldly, his eyes filled with disgust.

"Stop pretending! Tell Violet to quit using you to get my sympathy. It's pathetic. It makes me sick."

He slammed the door shut with a finality that left me shaking with anger.

For a brief moment, before the door closed, I caught a glimpse of Bianca's smug smile—a look of triumph.

It made me want to tear her apart, but I couldn't touch her. I couldn't do anything.

"Violet... Violet..." My grandmother's soft sobs filled the air, pulling me back to her.

I drifted over to her, my heart heavy with guilt.

I floated behind her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders, even though I knew it wouldn't help.

It wouldn't change anything.

"I'm sorry, Grandma... This is all my fault..."

5

After my grandmother left Adrian's house, she got lost again.

I followed her, my heart pounding with fear, terrified that something would happen to her.

Luckily, this time, she wandered into the police station.

The officers were kind, gently asking her if she had any family they could contact.

My grandmother seemed confused at first, but then she spotted Adrian's face on the news report playing on the station's screen. Her eyes lit up as she pointed to it.

"I know him! That's my granddaughter's boyfriend!" she said excitedly.

The officers exchanged glances, clearly thinking she was just an old woman lost in her memories.

But they remained patient.

"Do you know your granddaughter's boyfriend's phone number?" one of them asked.

My grandmother thought for a moment before reciting Adrian's number from memory.

"Thank you, ma'am. I'll give him a call," the officer said, dialing.

Adrian showed up not long after, looking more irritated than ever.

The second he saw my grandmother, his face hardened into a mask of cold anger.

"When are you going to stop this?" he shouted as soon as he walked in.

The officers frowned, reminding him to keep his voice down.

Adrian bit back his frustration, but his tone remained cold.

"First you came to my house causing trouble, and now you're here at the police station! What exactly do you want from me?!"

My grandmother sat there, looking small and confused.

"I'm not causing trouble," she said quietly. "I just want to find Violet..."

One of the officers stepped in, gently pulling Adrian aside.

"Sir, this elder lady seems to have Alzheimer, let's contact her family to get her back."

Adrian's expression flickered briefly, something unreadable passing over his face.

But then he scoffed, turning back to the officer.

"She's faking it. Just like her granddaughter. They're both liars."

I stayed by my grandmother's side, sitting next to her as Adrian's cruel words rang in my ears.

I smiled bitterly. My grandmother was such a kind woman, but because of me, she was being insulted and misunderstood.

Despite his harsh words, Adrian pulled out his phone and dialed my number.

It rang once, twice—no answer.

His face darkened as the call went to voicemail.

"She can't even bother to answer her own grandmother's calls," he muttered through clenched teeth. "What a heartless coward."

His hatred for me seemed to deepen with every second.

"I broke up with that woman years ago," he told the officer. "Don't bring me into this anymore."

He didn't even look back as he turned and walked out.

The officer sighed and then gently asked my grandmother, "Ma'am, your granddaughter won't answer our call. Is there anyone else we can call?"

My grandmother's expression shifted while a deep sadness washed over her face.

She nodded, her voice breaking as tears filled her eyes.

"My granddaughter... she can't answer her phone anymore. She's already dead."

6

My grandmother eventually snapped out of it and gave the police our address. They took her home, but I couldn't follow her.

My soul... for some reason, it was bound to Adrian. So I was stuck around him.

No matter how hard I tried to break away, I couldn't. I stayed by his side, like a shadow—unseen, unheard, but tethered to him, unable to leave.

After his speech at the school made waves, some of our old high school classmates organized a reunion in his honor.

We had graduated from the same high school and gone to the same college.

Adrian majored in finance. I majored in literature.

I used to tell him about my dreams. I wanted to be a writer, to have a few bestsellers by the time I turned 35, and then just retire, living a life of leisure.

He'd smiled back then, playfully pinching my cheek.

"Then my dream is to make enough money so that every book you write will be a hit. I'll fund it all."

I'd laughed, leaning in to kiss him, and he'd pulled me closer, deepening the kiss, his eyes full of that youthful energy and love.

I could still see his face from back then—so warm, so full of life. And now, that same man walked ahead of me, cold and distant, like a completely different person.

I followed him to the hotel where the reunion was being held.

We stood outside the private room, the door slightly open. I could hear the voices inside.

"Is everyone here?"

"Everyone except Violet. Her number's not working. No one could reach her."

I clenched my fists, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. Of course they couldn't reach me.

I was dead.

Adrian paused at the door, his hand hovering over the handle before he let it drop.

I glanced at him, confused.

Why wasn't he going in?

Shouldn't he be glad I wasn't coming?

The conversation inside shifted, and suddenly, they were talking about me.

"I heard Violet dumped Adrian for some rich guy back in the day."

"Bet she regrets it now. Adrian's loaded. She probably cries herself to sleep every night."

"Right? Adrian's a financial powerhouse. She must be wishing she could turn back time."

My whole body tensed with anger. Lies. All of it. How could they talk about me like that? They didn't know anything about what really happened. How dare they?

But my fury was pointless. No one could hear me.

I stood there, seething, when Adrian suddenly shoved the door open.

The room fell silent.

Everyone turned to greet him, their tone shifting from gossip to flattery the second they saw him.

Adrian barely acknowledged them, his eyes scanning the room, searching for something—or someone.

I floated next to him, my eyes narrowing as I watched him. What was he looking for?

Then the door opened again.

Adrian's eyes flickered—just for a second, I thought I saw something there—but it disappeared almost immediately.

Bianca stepped in, wearing a white dress, her smile sweet and shy.

"Sorry, I'm late."

Pain shot through my chest as I turned to look at Adrian.

For a moment, just a brief moment, I thought I saw disappointment in his eyes.

But it was gone before I could be sure.

Adrian pulled out the chair next to him, gesturing for her to sit.

He handed her a napkin and poured her a glass of water, his every action calm and thoughtful.

I let out a bitter laugh. How was I still hoping after all this time?

Adrian hated me. Why would he care if I showed up?

If anything, he probably wanted me here just to humiliate me.

The others noticed the attention he was giving Bianca, and they immediately started teasing him.

"Adrian's always so considerate!"

"Bianca, you're so lucky to have him looking after you!"

"You two really are a perfect match!"

"Bianca's way better than Violet ever was!" someone said, laughing.

Suddenly, the room was filled with laughter, all directed at me.

"I always knew Violet was just using Adrian. She's always been a gold-digger."

"She's trash. If she showed up here, she'd probably be all over Adrian again, desperate and pathetic."

I stared at them, my anger boiling over. How could they?

They didn't know me, didn't know what had happened, and yet they were so quick to spit on my name.

I turned my gaze to Bianca, who was laughing along with them, her eyes bright with satisfaction.

It was her.

She had ruined everything.

This woman... this snake had taken everything from me.

Why was she the one sitting beside Adrian, being treated like royalty?

Why was she the one he cared about now?

Adrian's face twisted in irritation at their words. He cut them off, his voice cold.

"That's enough. Don't mention her again. She disgusts me."

I stared at him, unable to believe what I'd just heard.

The contempt in his voice... it pierced straight through me.

And then, suddenly, the door burst open with a loud crash. A woman's voice, full of anger, cut through the room.

"You people have no right to talk about Violet like that! She's dead, and you still won't leave her alone!"