"So, how is she?" I asked excitedly as though asking her mother about some girlfriend.
I had no idea where they went or even what they talked about. I don't know who that woman is, just her name.
He was different, the way she treated her. He was not whom I've known in this world. Maybe I was deceived by how he was to me.
I was just somebody when someone was there, waiting for his return.
"Who is she?" I asked again uncaringly.
He squinted at me, moving closer a little. "Were you jealous just now?" he asked smugly.
"What!" I blurted out. "Of course not!"
I crossed my arms while gnawing my lower lip. "Why would I? She isn't your girlfriend, is she?"
"You should say 'Why should I? I'm not your girlfriend, right?'" he teased.
"Fine! But I'm not jealous!" I emphasized too exaggeratedly and pouted. He arched his brows. "Really!"
He laughed at me like crazy. He was crazy!
But I was nowhere close to admitting I was, not that I felt like a girlfriend of some sort. No way.
Funny, though, feelings like this could still be felt in the afterlife. Just when I thought misery will go away when you die.
All the while, I thought dead people are free but freedom sure is expensive, even for me.
I eyed him incredulously. "Tell me, how can she see us?" I asked, now seriously.
He looked at me in the eyes. He was looking directly into my eyes as if saying something, making me unsuccessful in shunning previous thoughts away.
I was beet red to the core. He was inching closer. And closer, still. "Why are you—"
"She was almost my wife," he said under his breath, answering my very first question.
