YOU SWAN , HE FROG !

11

I had imagined countless times how James would react when he found out I was dead. 

Now, I finally saw it. 

Just moments ago, this man was laughing and talking with his "one true love." But when he heard the news, he froze for a moment, furrowing his brow. "Don't joke about things like that." 

"It's true..." 

James stayed stunned for a few seconds, then angrily shouted, "Jack, don't joke about something like that!" 

"A week ago, the taxi she was in collided with a truck and went off a cliff. There was an explosion after it fell. They only found a few body parts, and since no one reported a pregnant woman missing, the police... it took a whole week..." Jack's voice broke, as if he couldn't continue. 

"It took a whole week before the police could confirm her identity through DNA testing." 

James' face slowly changed, his whole body stiffening, like he had turned to stone. 

"James, did you know she was pregnant?" 

"She's been missing for a week. Did you not even try to find her?" 

With each of Jack's questions, the color drained from James' face, and his lips began to tremble violently. 

"No... no... you're lying," he whispered, his voice shaky. 

"James..." Emma said softly, her eyes filled with concern as she gently took his hand. 

There was a pause on the other end of the phone, and Jack's tone shifted, becoming laced with something that was hard to place—sarcasm, perhaps, or maybe disgust. "Are you with Emma right now?" 

The silence hung heavy in the air for several seconds. 

"Figures. The whole week Annie was missing, you were with her." 

James flinched, as if realizing the truth of it in an instant. He yanked his hand away from Emma, his eyes red and frantic, like a child caught in a terrible mistake. 

"Her body's at the funeral home now. The police notified her family to claim her. You should go." Jack paused for a long time before speaking again, quietly. "She had no family. You're all she had." 

James stood there, completely lost, his tall frame suddenly hunched, and then he slowly sank to the floor, curling into himself. He didn't move, repeating the same words over and over, "It can't be. It can't be..." 

It seemed like that was all he could say. He couldn't accept that I was gone. 

I watched this scene unfold with cold detachment, but also with a strange sense of satisfaction. 

After regaining my memories, the hatred I felt toward him was clear, sharp, and overwhelming, like it would consume me whole. 

But after the initial thrill of revenge, a deep exhaustion and sorrow settled in my heart. 

Love and hate—they both drained you completely. 

I had lived so tired, and even in death, I remained weary.