Like Love But Not

Chapter 1: Grief of the One Who Losses Their Way

I’ve always thought that there wouldn’t be any souls left behind when people died.

Even if there was, they were probably there due to their deep obsession, strong resentment or their unwillingness to leave.

They would ultimately become evil ghosts and roam the world.

Looking at it now, that doesn’t seem to be the case.

I’ve died.

I committed suicide by cutting my wrist.

When I died, I wasn’t obsessed with anything. I didn’t feel resentful and I wasn’t unwilling to leave.

I just felt that there was no more meaning in life.

When a person reaches a certain level of despair, dying isn’t a scary thing.

The only thing I remembered was the ice cold water flowing over the wound on my wrist and the pool of water steadily turning from pink to bright red. Then, I slowly closed my eyes.

I’ve finally let everything go. I’ve finally let him go.

This time, I’m really letting you go.

From the bottom of my heart, I hope you find happiness.

I had never expected that I would still wake up. Of course, “waking up” is a meaningless word to me now. Perhaps, I should say that I’d never expected myself to see the light again. Everything was just a blur and I had no awareness. Now that I think about it, my body was very light, as if it was being dragged by something. I started floating about like a leaf and I found myself hung in the air. I didn’t feel warm or cold; I also didn’t feel pain or sadness. I just floated lightly and my surroundings were dark and quiet.

Then, there was a ray of light. Gradually, the light became brighter and I saw a nostalgic light.

The scene before me gradually became clearer.

I looked around me in a trance. It was an awfully familiar place. It was his and my home.

The flooring was made of redwood and there was a soft and large white sofa. The decorative floor lamp was emitting a dim and warm yellow light, lighting up his quiet sleeping face as usual.

I started admiring this sight almost instantly.
He liked to sleep on the soft sofa with the dim table lamp switched on and he had always tossed and turned when he was asleep. As for me, I liked to sit by his side, secretly watching him when he was deep asleep. I liked watching his chiseled, handsome face as well as the silver cross earring shining faintly.

“Hnn…” He turned over slightly. Seemingly feeling cold, his hand stretched out to find the intricate Indian blanket.

Due to his tosses and turns, the blanket had long fallen onto the floor. In the past, it was always me who secretly helped him with the blanket. However, I’m unable to do so now.
Unable to feel the blanket, he was forced awake. Similar to the times that I was caught peeping at him, my heart jumped like a thief that was caught. Nevertheless, his sight swept past me. He stretched out his hand and picked up the blanket on the floor.
He couldn’t see me.

When he stretched out his hand, his hand had went through me. However, both of us felt nothing.

It doesn’t matter. He had always treated me as though I was invisible even when he could see me. When he was still able to touch me, he had always tried his best not to.

I watched as he continued sleeping.
I should be shouting. I should be in hysteria. I should be grabbing god by the collar, shaking him and asking him what was going on.