Chapter 1

I was about to give birth to our second child, and my husband was off to tend to his first love.

In a moment of desperation, I shouted, "Aren't you worried that I might die giving birth?"

He dismissed me as being dramatic and walked away without a second glance.

Later on, the hospital where I was staying caught fire.

He couldn’t hear my cries for help and instead rescued his first love from the blaze.

Upon hearing of my death, he lost his mind.

The searing flames that filled my vision faded away, and the agony of being consumed by fire vanished.

I saw my daughter, crying and calling out for me.

I rushed towards her, desperate to hold her in my arms.

But my hands passed right through her, unable to touch her.

Looking down, I realized I was transparent; I was just a spirit.

“Don’t be scared, sweetheart, Mommy’s here, Mommy’s here,”

I repeated over and over, my voice choking with emotion, but she couldn’t hear me.

Part of her face was burned, blisters already forming.

A nurse tended to her wounds, and she trembled from the pain.

Watching her suffer, my heart ached.

It turns out that even in death, the pain is still so vivid.

Others who escaped the fire had family with them, but my daughter was all alone.

The nurse, unable to bear it, asked, “Where are your parents, sweetheart?”

My daughter’s eyes were red, tears clinging to her lashes. She cautiously asked, “Nurse, can I borrow your phone to call my dad?”

The kind nurse handed her the phone.

“Dad, please help Mom, she—”

As soon as the call connected, she urgently pleaded for help.

Half an hour earlier, the hospital I was in caught fire.

The flames spread quickly; I was holding my newborn while holding my daughter’s hand.

I told her to run out and find her father to save me.

I thought she’d be too frightened to remember, but she clung to my words.

Asher’s impatient voice came over the phone: “Are you trying to say your mom’s in trouble? You’re so young and already helping her lie to me. What has she been teaching you?”

Before she could say more, Asher hung up.

He didn’t even ask; he just assumed I was lying.

He wasn’t concerned about me being in danger.

My daughter returned the phone, full of disappointment.

I gently embraced her, blowing softly on her wounds.

Suddenly, a strong force pulled me away, and the scene before me changed.

I saw Asher—my husband.