YOU SWAN , HE FROG !

5

After putting Emma to sleep, James stood alone on the balcony, smoking. His tall frame nearly blended into the night, with only the faint red glow of the cigarette tip giving him away. 

There was almost no expression on his face, but I knew him well—his fingers rubbing the cigarette over and over meant he was irritated. 

I was forced to hover less than two meters away, coldly watching him. He had just shared his feelings with the woman he truly loved, so what was he still upset about? Oh, right. We hadn't officially broken up yet. Maybe he was frustrated because things didn't go as far as he'd hoped earlier. 

That's what I thought, anyway. 

Suddenly, his phone buzzed. 

James immediately opened it, his dark eyes fixed on the screen. A flash of disappointment crossed his face. 

Curious, I floated closer to peek over his shoulder, openly snooping. And what I saw made me freeze. 

James had opened our WeChat chat. 

Since that big fight, we hadn't spoken at all. The last message was from me: "Your birthday is in seven days. What do you want?" 

He hadn't replied. Maybe he'd been too busy with work that day. Maybe he was at the hospital with Emma. 

Now, James' fingers mindlessly scrolled up and down, refreshing the chat, as if doing so would make a new message from me appear. 

I didn't know how to react. 

In that moment of distraction, James typed and sent a message. 

James: "It's 11:30." 

It took me only a second to understand what he meant. 

It was 11:30 at night. His birthday was almost over. 

For five years, I'd never missed his birthday. Every year, I baked him an apple pie. But this year, I hadn't even wished him a happy birthday. 

And now, I never would. 

Because I was dead. Forever.