Chapter 4

After tucking Celeste into bed, Dorian went to the balcony to smoke alone.

He stood tall and refined, his body almost merging with the night, only the glow of his cigarette tip shining faintly.

His face was almost expressionless, his thumb repeatedly rubbing the cigarette, which meant he was extremely agitated.

I was forced to hover less than two meters away from him, watching him coldly.

He and the woman he loved had already confessed their feelings for each other; I didn’t know why he was still agitated.

Oh, right, we hadn’t broken up yet.

Perhaps it was because of what happened earlier, unfulfilled desire.

I thought.

Suddenly, his phone chimed.

Dorian almost immediately opened his phone, his deep, dark eyes fixed on the screen.

The next second, a hint of disappointment flickered in his eyes.

My curiosity piqued. I floated behind him, shamelessly peeking at his screen.

What I saw made me freeze—

Dorian had opened his SnapChat chat with me.

Since that big argument, we hadn’t contacted each other.

The last chat message was from me: “Comrade Dorian’s birthday is in seven days! What gift do you want?”

Perhaps he was too busy with work that day, or perhaps he was taking care of Celeste at the hospital, but he hadn’t replied.

Now, Dorian’s fingers unconsciously scrolled up and down, refreshing SnapChat, as if doing so would make a message appear from the other side.

I wasn’t sure how to react.

In a daze, Dorian had already sent a SnapChat message.

Dorian: “It’s eleven-thirty.”

In an instant, I understood his reminder.

It was 11:30 PM. His birthday was almost over.

I, his girlfriend, who hadn’t missed his birthday for five years, who always cooked him longevity noodles and vegetable potstickers, hadn’t even wished him a happy birthday this year.

But I wouldn’t anymore.

Never again.

Because I was already dead.