YOU SWAN , HE FROG !

14

A few days later, James insisted on holding a funeral for me. 

The sky was shrouded in a light drizzle, casting a gray haze over everything. It was as if the entire city was wrapped in gloom. 

James didn't hold an umbrella. He stood silently before my tombstone, staring at my black-and-white photo etched into the stone. The inscription read: *Beloved Wife Annie.* 

One by one, people came and laid white chrysanthemums at my grave. 

After the service ended, James didn't move. The rain trailed down his hair and over his pale face, leaving streaks that looked almost like tears. 

Jack walked over, holding out an umbrella. 

"You know your heart isn't in great shape, right? Even a simple cold could trigger an infection. Why do you keep doing this to yourself?" 

Without saying a word, James tossed the umbrella aside. "Then let the sickness kill me." 

Unsurprisingly, after that day, James fell seriously ill. 

It started as a mild cold, but he refused to take any medicine, which led to an infection. He ended up in the hospital for two weeks. 

The nights in the hospital were quiet. 

James would sit there, staring out at the dark, empty sky, his voice soft and full of confusion. 

"Annie, why haven't you visited me in my dreams, not even once?" 

"You said you'd take care of my heart. It's sick now... Could you come back and check on me, please?" 

Even after he was discharged, barely recovered, James ended up in the ICU again, this time from drinking himself into another infection. 

Jack had had enough. He slapped James hard across the face, his eyes cold. "If you really want to die, let me do it for you." 

"Honestly, when you were doing all those disgusting things, I wanted to slap you on Annie's behalf." 

"She's gone. Who are you trying to impress with all of this? Do you think it's some kind of noble suffering?" 

Jack's voice was full of scorn. "I'll tell you one thing—if it weren't for your grandma asking me to look out for you, I wouldn't even bother. Annie would be sickened if she saw you like this, do you get that?" 

James stood there, pale and dazed, staring blankly at Jack. 

I don't know if James truly heard what Jack said, but after that day, he stopped being reckless. He stopped ruining his body. 

He returned to work, going through the motions of life with a calm, almost eerie composure. 

But something about him seemed off. 

At night, he would stand on the balcony, smoking a cigarette. The smoke curled around him, obscuring his face, but only adding to the loneliness that seemed to cling to him, a coldness that never faded. 

After finishing his cigarette, he would go to the fridge and pull out the last few slices of the apple pie I had made. 

There wasn't much left, maybe just a few pieces, and every day James would warm one up and eat it quietly. 

Before going to bed, he would sit by my urn, whispering softly, "Goodnight." 

I noticed that I no longer felt the constant need to be near him. My mind grew foggier, and I felt strangely sleepy all the time, so I spent most of my days just lying down, drifting off into slumber. 

Lately, he seemed to be busier than usual, often coming home late. 

I didn't know what he was working on, not until I overheard Jack's phone call. 

"What's with you transferring all your company shares to me?" Jack asked. 

James answered calmly, "I just want to take some time off." 

"And I heard you made a huge donation to an orphanage? Is that because of... her?" 

James gave a quiet "mm," his tone indifferent. "You can consider it my way of atoning."