Chapter 2Loving My Living Ghost

Standing in the familiar grand ballroom this time around, the glittering lights and false laughter only leave me feeling hollow.

Jared strolls over, champagne flute in hand, his eyes locking onto the glass jar in my arms.

"A gift for your sister? How thoughtful. All handmade, I assume?"

He reaches out, his fingers clawing for the glass.

It is the exact same play as before.

I pull the jar back, my voice flat and sharp. "Yes. And only my sister touches it. Keep your hands to yourself, Jared."

His smile falters, a flash of pure malice crossing his eyes.

Right on cue, a server carrying a tray of champagne walks past. Jared nudges her hard, sending her crashing straight into me.

The collision is violent and sudden.

The glass jar slips from my grip, shattering against the polished marble floor.

The jar bursts, and instead of cranes, hundreds of colorful, tightly rolled scrolls of paper spill across the floor, scattering among the shards.

The entire room goes quiet.

In my past life, this floor was covered in my shame. This time, guests instinctively kneel down to help sweep up the mess, picking up the small scrolls.

Naturally, they read the neat, elegant ink on the pages:

‘May my parents find peace, health, and happiness in all things.'

‘May our family remain united and free of worry.'

‘May my sister find joy on her birthday, and may her path ahead be bright and safe.'

Line after wish. Clean, honest, and entirely appropriate.

There is no forbidden longing here. No desperate confession.

Just a brother's quiet, genuine blessings for his family.

The atmosphere in the room shifts instantly.

The disgust in the guests' eyes turns into warm, approving smiles.

"He made these for the whole family? What a sweet, thoughtful boy."

"To write so many by hand, wishing them safety... he's so devoted."

"Where did those awful rumors even come from? He's clearly a good kid."

My parents stand in the crowd, their expressions softening into relief and quiet pride.

Only Jared looks like he's about to explode.

While everyone is distracted, he leans in close, whispering in my ear:

"Don't play cute with me, Dylan. I know exactly how obsessed you are with Cassie. You better hide it well, because you won't get this lucky next time."

I offer him a faint, mocking smile. My heart doesn't even skip a beat.

Obsessed?

My love for her rotted in the dirt of that freezing garage a long time ago.

I don't bother wasting my breath on him. I look past his shoulder, my eyes finding Cassie.

She is kneeling on the floor, her fingers trembling as she holds one of the stray paper slips.

She stares at the words written in my steady, clean handwriting: ‘May my sister find joy on her birthday, and may her path ahead be bright.'

Her thick eyelashes cast long shadows over her face, hiding her eyes, but her entire posture screams devastation.

I don't care to watch her self-inflicted misery. I turn my back on the noise and step out onto the terrace.

The night breeze is cool, sweeping away the stifling heat of the ballroom and calming the ghosts of my past.

Soft footsteps click behind me. Cassie.

She stops a half-step away, close enough to block my escape but far enough to respect my space.

"Dylan... you're back."

My spine goes rigid. My heart drops into my stomach, my blood turning to ice.

You're back.

Two simple words, but heavy with an impossible truth.

She isn't talking about the terrace. She's talking about the rebirth.

I force my face to remain a mask of calm. "What do you mean, back? I've been here the whole time."

I try to play dumb. But Cassie knows me too well. Two lifetimes of codependency mean she reads my every micro-expression.

She looks up, her eyes desperate. "You came back too, didn't you?"

So, I wasn't the only one given a second chance.

I let the feigned ignorance drop. My eyes turn to flint as I face her, done with the charade.

"Yes," I say, my voice dead. "I'm back."

"But I didn't come back for you, Cassie."

"In our last life, I was foolish enough, tired enough, broken enough. I bled for you, ruined myself financially for you, endured every humiliation, and died alone in a dark garage. This time, I only want to protect my parents and live my own life."

"You and I are done. No more ties. No more us."

The color drains from her face. Panic flares in her eyes, and she reaches out to grab my hand.

"Dylan, no... please, let me explain—"

I don't want her regret. I don't want her dynamic, useless amends.

I raise my hand and slap her across the face with every ounce of strength I have left.

Her head snaps back, a bright red mark blooming on her pale cheek.

I look at her, my gaze frozen. "That's for the slap you gave me in our last life. Now, we're even."

I turn to leave, but before I can take a step, she throws herself forward, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist, burying her face into my chest. Her body is shaking violently as she sobs.

"No, we can't be even," she weeps, her voice muffled against my shirt. "Dylan, I can't watch you die again... I can't let you leave me. I've always loved you. I won't let go this time. I'll prove it to you. I'll show you I mean it."

I stand frozen in her embrace, my heart a flat, silent line.