After I Died, I Was Made into a Mannequin for My Boyfriend.

When my boyfriend was so poor that he couldn't afford food and lived in the basement, I volunteered to be his mannequin. That year, his paintings became popular overnight. He said that I was his muse and he wanted to marry me. But after only two years of marriage, he had a new muse, a female student in his studio. Sexy and passionate, just like me back then. At a friend's party, he praised her beauty and agility. When you mention me, it's just boring. What he didn't know was that I died in the studio next to theirs the night he publicly discussed me as a conversation piece.