Chapter 4

A sharp gasp snapped me out of my memories.

Someone finally realized Nana wasn't faking. A frantic passerby dialed 911.

Yet, Liam remained unmoved. His gaze turned even colder, and after a moment, he let out a dark scoff.

"She's acting, right? I can't believe Chloe is using her own grandmother to get my attention."

His voice dripped with venomous hatred.

His assistant looked confused and asked tentatively, "Mr. Hayes, is this the same Chloe you call out for in your sleep?"

Liam's body tensed, and a heavy silence fell over him.

I looked up at him, my ghostly heart racing.

He called my name in his sleep?

Against my better judgment, a sliver of hope sparked deep within me. But Liam didn't answer her. Instead, he turned and walked toward the tech executives who had come to greet him.

"I heard you haven't been back to the States in three years, Liam. A lot has changed around here," one of them said.

Liam replied absentmindedly, "I was back briefly, two years ago."

Two years ago.

Right around the time I accidentally drowned.

I remembered.

I had mustered all my courage to call Liam back then. I wanted to tell him that I had finally divorced Sebastian. I foolishly believed that maybe, just maybe, he still loved me as deeply as I loved him.

My marriage to Sebastian had utterly destroyed me.

The agonizing torment of being separated from Liam, combined with Sebastian's suffocating control, had broken me mentally.

I developed chronic insomnia, couldn't eat, and wasted away until I was practically a walking corpse.

Sebastian dragged me to countless doctors, but I was just merely existing, clinging to life by a thread.

All I wanted was to see Liam one more time.

One night, Sebastian tried to be intimate with me. But as he buried his face in my neck, he suddenly pulled away, looking bored.

"Your heart still belongs to someone else. Chloe, I'm tired of you. Let's get a divorce."

The man who had been so obsessively possessive of me had grown bored of his broken toy in less than a year.

That day, I remembered the promise Liam had once made: that we would be together forever, building our future.

As I signed the papers, Sebastian mocked me, "You're free, Chloe."

Driven by an almost desperate yearning, I dialed Liam's number. It rang for what felt like an eternity. My palms were sweating. When he finally picked up, my heart hammered in my chest.

But before a smile could even form on my face, his icy voice shattered my heart.

"Chloe, are you calling to congratulate me? I'm getting married next month."

I don't remember how I hung up the phone.

Death has a way of blurring the details.

I was standing on a desolate beach, the waves lapping at my ankles.

The tide rose, freezing cold, until it swallowed me whole.

Sebastian might have called me around that time, or maybe he didn't. I can't clearly recall.

After that, there was nothing but darkness.

The piercing wail of ambulance sirens yanked me back to the present.

Watching the paramedics load Nana into the ambulance, I hovered anxiously beside them, following them all the way to the ER. Throughout her resuscitation, I prayed to every god listening to keep her safe.

Two hours later, Nana finally opened her eyes.

A wave of immense relief washed over me.

"I want to go home," she mumbled weakly. "Ella is waiting for me." She tried to sit up, tugging at her IV lines.

"Nana, no, please," I sobbed, my voice as soft as a whisper. "You need to rest. You're safe here."

But she couldn't hear. My pleas went unheard, unheeded.

She insisted on being discharged. The nurses tried to talk her out of it, but her dementia had taken hold, and she was stubbornly adamant. Eventually, the nurses relented and let her go.

She didn't return to her own apartment; instead, she went straight to my old house, the one she had meticulously maintained since my death.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Chloe... I'm so useless." She sat on the edge of the bed, looking as lost as a child.

"Are you mad at me? Is that why you never visit me in my dreams?"

No! No! Nana, I'm right here!

I threw my arms out to hug her, but grasped nothing but air.

Her eyes were completely bloodshot. She had cried so hard she could barely stand. Yet, leaning against the wall for support, she began to obsessively tidy up my room.

It was her way of comforting herself.

She told herself I was just on a business trip, traveling far away, and that I'd be back any minute. She would set an extra plate for me at dinner, along with my favorite cup.

She folded my clothes, ironed them, and placed them neatly in my drawers.

Once she was done, she changed her clothes and left the house.

I followed her all the way to Half Moon Bay. My ashes had been scattered in the Pacific Ocean here.

Grandma came to this cliffside often, bringing my favorite boba tea and pastries. She would sit there for hours, talking to the wind.

"Chloe," she whispered, her voice carrying on the breeze. "I saw Liam today. He's all grown up now, a big shot in high society. He doesn't remember me, sweetheart. Or you." She wiped a tear from her cheek.

"Go home, Nana," I pleaded. "It's getting cold, and you need to rest." But she couldn't hear my words.

Late that night, under the moonlight, Nana collapsed once again. I stood by her side, screaming in terror. Thank god, a late-night jogger found her and dialed 911.

She was rushed back to the hospital.