He Only Told Me He Loved Me After I Died

I have a husband I've loved for a long time, but he doesn't love me.

His heart belongs to the woman he can't stop thinking about, while our marriage is nothing but a name.

I developed depression and spent my days in a daze. At last, I died in an accident while out one day, and my soul left my body. At my funeral, my husband didn't shed a single tear. He calmly greeted every friend and relative who came to pay their respects, and just a few days later, he was laughing and chatting with the woman he loved aboard a cruise ship, even sharing dinner with her.

I hated him, so I decided to take my revenge.

I gave up reincarnation and became a vengeful ghost, hiding under his bed. In the dead of night, I smeared chicken blood on my face and messed up my hair. Hearing his footsteps approach, I grew eager, ready to scare him.

But just as I was about to reach out with my icy fingertips and grab his ankle, he suddenly knelt beside the bed and held out his hand. His gaze on me was exceptionally calm.

"Wanwan."

He looked calmly at me, hiding under the bed, and said softly, "Crawl over here."

I hesitated for a moment, then reached out and slowly laid my bare, icy white finger bones in his palm.

1. First-person narration from the bottom's point of view. A short, melodramatic story.

2. The bottom really is dead. She's a real ghost.

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