Devil Ex-husband, Please Stay Away From Me!

I couldn’t believe I was actually seeing Ryan.

The pain from the flames was unbearable. One moment, I could smell my burning flesh, and the next, I was spinning through darkness and found myself in Ryan’s bright, airy office.

He sat casually at his desk, impeccably dressed in a suit. Behind him, his secretary, Reina Becker, was gently massaging his shoulders. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over them, creating a scene that was both serene and perfect.

I stood there, stunned, watching them.

Ryan was clearly irritated by my call. Reina glanced at him and spoke softly, "Mr. Gentry, if Miss Hayes can’t make it, what about tonight’s event…"

Ryan sighed in frustration. "You’re coming with me to the charity gala tonight. We’ll go shopping for clothes together."

Reina’s face brightened momentarily before she quickly masked her smile. "But everyone else brings their wives to these events. Maybe Miss Hayes is just running late. Should we try calling her again?"

Ryan scoffed. "We’re not married. I told you to go, so you go."

Reina tried to sound sympathetic. "Alright, if Miss Hayes is upset, I’ll make sure to explain things to her."

For a moment, I saw a flash of disgust on Ryan’s face. I knew he didn’t like it when women got jealous and unreasonable, so I did my best to be an understanding girlfriend. I held back my frustrations, avoided being jealous, and stayed calm.

Even when he forgot our anniversary or socialized with other women, I accepted it all. I told myself it was normal for him to be busy while starting his career.

Reina’s comment clearly struck a nerve with Ryan. He sneered, "If she’s going to act like a spoiled brat, I’ll just break up with her!"

I felt a chilling numbness spread through me. I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t hanging up or missing our date out of spite. It was the accident that had taken my life. I tried to move closer, desperately wanting to explain, "It’s not like that. I wasn’t being difficult on purpose…"

But he couldn’t hear me or see me.

The stark reality hit me hard. I was dead, and there was no way to explain this to Ryan.

I could only watch helplessly as he left the office with Reina. I followed them, unable to escape the scene. The traffic was gridlocked, a long line of cars stretching ahead. Drivers honked impatiently, creating a cacophony of noise that was nearly unbearable.

Ryan’s frustration was evident. "Why is it so congested today?"

The driver responded, "I heard there’s been an accident up ahead. A car exploded…"

My heart dropped. That was my accident! If Ryan passed by the scene, he would recognize our car! I watched him with desperate hope, praying he’d see it…

"Mr. Gentry, this is so frightening!" Reina clung to Ryan’s arm, her voice trembling. "Usually, in accidents like this, the victims are in terrible shape."

A wave of dread washed over me. Ryan glanced at the fearful secretary and said gently, "Let’s take another route. Don’t scare her."

"How unlucky," he muttered under his breath.

No! My heart sank further as I watched the driver turn onto a different road, narrowly missing a speeding ambulance.

Even though I had already died in the flames and my heart had long stopped beating, the pain inside me was overwhelming.

I followed them numbly. The party dragged on into the early hours, and Ryan drank far too much. When it finally ended, Reina helped him into the car, his steps unsteady and wavering.

I watched as Reina guided him to the front door. She deliberately messed up her hair and collar, smeared her lipstick on Ryan’s clothes, and rang the doorbell with a self-satisfied air. In a sweet, coaxing voice, she called out, “Yolia, Yolia, Mr. Gentry’s drunk. I brought him home. Can you open the door?”

I knew exactly what she was doing. She was deliberately trying to provoke me. She used to record Ryan’s criticisms of me and send them my way, claiming it was to help me improve. Later, she began sending photos of Ryan with other women.

At first, I would confront Ryan, but all that earned me was his irritation. He would slam things down and shout, “Yolia, are you spying on me? Who do you think you are?”

Then he’d turn to Reina and say, “Has she been threatening you? Don’t let her get to you.”

Reina would act all hurt and say, “But Yolia said…”

I would stand there, powerless, as Ryan comforted the seemingly distressed secretary. So, I became the villain in their story, the nagging, unreasonable woman who tracked his every move.

Reina was a pro at playing the victim. Now, she knocked on the door, pleading, “Yolia? Are you angry? Even if you are, you can’t just leave Mr. Gentry out here…”

Ryan, finally roused by her persistent knocking, frowned and fished out his keys from his pocket. He unlocked the door, his voice tinged with impatience. “Yolia, you…”

His words died in his throat as he stepped inside. The house was pitch dark and empty.