When I Died, He Was Setting Off Fireworks for His First Love

Elizabeth had asked me to meet her at a cafe.

She looked absolutely stunning - Elizabeth had been the reigning beauty queen back in our high school days, and time had only enhanced her natural allure. Now dressed to the nines in her corporate power suit, she exuded a dazzling, almost intimidating presence.

In contrast, I couldn't help but feel self-conscious about my own disheveled appearance. The ravages of illness had left my cheeks sunken and hollow, my eyes bulging unnaturally. Even layers of makeup couldn't conceal the dark, bruise-like circles that ringed my eyes, making me look drained of all vitality.

As I took a seat across from her, Elizabeth got straight to the point. "You need to leave Zane."

I sipped at my coffee, the bitter liquid doing little to soothe my nerves. Some things never change - I still couldn't stomach the stuff.

Elizabeth pressed on, her voice dripping with condescension. "You know Zane always loved me back in high school. And now that I'm back, you little home-wrecking mistress need to step aside and let me have him!"

I frowned, setting down my cup. "And what makes you think you can just demand that?"

"Oh please," she scoffed. "You think you have what it takes to marry him? It's just because your name has 'beth' in it. You don't really believe that 'beth' is calling out for you, do you?" Elizabeth's lips curled into a cruel smile.

"No, in matters of the heart, it's all about who got there first. I came before you, so you can forget about being Mrs. Smith."

I gripped the ceramic mug so tightly my knuckles turned white, struggling to contain the surge of rage building inside me.

Before I knew it, I had flung the entire contents of my cup directly into Elizabeth's face.

"Aaah! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" she shrieked, leaping up from her chair.

Coffee dripped down her designer blouse and perfectly coiffed hair, leaving her looking utterly disheveled and humiliated.

The commotion drew the attention of every patron in the cafe.

Seeing all eyes on her, Elizabeth instantly transformed into a picture of wounded innocence, her eyes brimming with tears that threatened to spill over.

"Beth, how could you do this to me?" she whimpered.

I cut her off before she could continue her pitiful act.

"Save it. Zane has surgery today, so he won't be joining us."

"You willingly became a mistress, disrupting someone else's family. Pouring coffee on you is the least of it. Whether I'm here or not, you'll never be Mrs. Smith! I won't let you have your way."

Elizabeth dropped the act, angrily saying, "Beth, you couldn't beat me in high school, and it's the same now. I will get what I want, no matter what means I have to use!"

I smiled calmly and replied, "We'll see."

I returned home, my abdomen throbbing with unbearable pain, and the painkillers had lost their effectiveness. I curled up on the floor, tears streaming down my face uncontrollably.

Zane had once promised that he would always treat me well.

He was the one who said he wanted to marry me.

Zane came from a struggling background; after his parents divorced, they spent even less time with him.

During college, I stretched my living expenses to the limit, forcing myself to save half of it for Zane.

When Zane was in graduate school, I wrote papers to support his studies, not knowing how many nights I stayed up, ultimately helping him earn his degree.

On graduation day, Zane hugged me tightly and said, "Beth, I love you. Let's get married; I will take care of you for the rest of my life."

At that moment, I didn't understand why he called me Beth.

Now I realize that Beth is not Elizabeth; Beth can never compare to Elizabeth.

When Zane returned, I had already prepared myself.

I wore light makeup, deliberately applied lipstick, and spritzed on his favorite perfume.

Even though I was destined to be the loser in this marriage, I didn't want to lose in a way that was too humiliating.

I was cooking when Zane hugged me from behind, resting his chin on my head.

"Honey, I love you."

Zane had never called me "honey," not once.

For all these years, he had always referred to me as Beth.

A woman's intuition is usually spot on.

I caught a whiff of Zane's familiar cologne, and this time it was particularly strong.

Suddenly feeling nauseous, I turned to glare at him. "Zane, what did you do?"

"Honey, you have to believe me; I didn't do anything. I love you."

I was so furious that my whole body shook. Zane was defending himself, guilt written all over his face.

I instinctively placed my hand on my lower abdomen but quickly dropped it.

I could no longer hold back; covering my mouth, I ran to the bathroom to vomit.

I hadn't eaten properly in a long time; I could only force myself to take a bite or two, and even when I vomited, there was hardly anything to come out—just a continuous stream of blood.

Zane chased after me.

"Beth! Please let me explain! It's not what you think; I love you."

How ridiculous! I hadn't even said anything, and he was already panicking to explain. If he wasn't guilty, then what was going on?

Zane kept knocking on the bathroom door, trying to get me to listen.

"Beth, I really do love you. I've just been too busy lately and neglected you."

"Don't be upset. Elizabeth doesn't have many friends here, and I need to help her. You know there's nothing between us."

"I know Elizabeth has reached out to you, but I've moved on from her. I have you now, and you will always be Mrs. Smith; that will never change."

When I finally composed myself and opened the door, Zane was still standing there.

He looked at me cautiously, like a little dog afraid of upsetting its owner.

The urgency in his eyes didn't seem fake.

I stared at him, unable to understand how someone could cheat and still claim to love me.

I felt so resentful; even if I were to die, Elizabeth and Zane shouldn't be able to be together without any guilt.

In the days that followed, Zane treated me exceptionally well, even seeming a bit overly cautious.

Every day after work, I rush home.

When I arrive, Zane is always there, preparing my favorite meals, occasionally bringing a bouquet of flowers, and picking up my favorite desserts. He spends so much time with me, making sure I feel loved.

But today, I got home a bit late, and Zane was already sitting at the dining table, waiting for me.

I didn't plan to explain anything to him, but as I walked past, he grabbed my wrist.

"Beth, why are you back so late? Are you okay?"

He pulled me into an embrace, kissing my earlobe and then my neck.

But just the thought of how he and Elizabeth are flirting, how tangled their relationship is, makes me feel sick.

I suddenly shiver, my whole body trembling.

"I'm tired; you should go take a shower."

Zane didn't seem to notice my discomfort and went to the bathroom. While he was showering, I took his phone; it was the first time I had looked at it.

I started scrolling through his messages with Elizabeth.

As I read through their chats, I realized they had talked a lot.

Most of their conversations were about everyday things—like the weather that day, the evening breeze, and the moon at midnight.

They chatted more in one day than Zane and I had in a month.

Elizabeth's social media was filled with posts about a man who would pick her up from the airport, take her home, bring her flowers, cook for her, and even drive miles to be by her side during an earthquake.

Though that man had never shown his face, I knew it was Zane; he was still wearing the custom wedding ring we had made together.

Zane is really busy, juggling the need to deceive me while also loving her.

Lying in bed at night, I couldn't help but reflect on everything.

I kept replaying their chat records in my mind, thinking about every word Zane had said and how gentle he was with her.

In the stillness of the night, it felt like a knife, slicing through my heart again and again.

"Elizabeth, I miss you."

"Zane, I'm going back to the country."

...

"Is there still a chance for us?"

"Zane, there was an earthquake; I'm so scared. Can you come find me?"

...

"Let's go watch a movie tonight."

Finally unable to hold it in, I rushed to the bathroom and threw up violently.

I stroked my belly, thinking to myself.

Zane, I want to give you and Elizabeth a big gift after I'm gone.

Our relationship has been on the mend lately.

The clearest sign is Zane coming home more often and us being more intimate in bed.

If it weren't for those tangled romantic entanglements, I'd still cherish this time so much. But good things never last, do they?

Today's my birthday.

Zane took a rare day off work to get everything ready at home early.

Mood lighting, music, fresh flowers, delicious food - he made it all so romantic. There were even two tickets to that music festival on the table.

"Beth, I love you. Happy birthday!" he said.

"After dinner, we'll go watch the fireworks together."

Zane pulled me close and we danced. Under the dim, flattering lights, he leaned in and kissed me. It was perfect timing.

Then my phone blared out the earthquake warning.

[Beep, beep, 10, 9, 8, ...]

At the same time, Elizabeth's call came through.

"Zane... I'm so scared. Please come protect me?" she sobbed.

I could just picture her lying there crying, the world falling apart around her.

Now was the hero's cue to rush in and save the day.

Zane glanced at me, and in that one look I knew - he was going to her.

"There's an earthquake. I have to go to her," he said.

What he doesn't know is that I'm about to die.