My Ex-Husband's Dream Girl Was a Man

The stench of gas hung heavy in the air on New Year's Eve, suffocating the holiday cheer.

I turned, heart hammering, to find my husband staring at me with eyes devoid of warmth.

"Do you remember the beauty of the Forensic Science Department?" Derek asked, his voice chillingly calm. "She's dead. And I have no intention of living without her."

My mind went blank. Then the click of his lighter shattered the silence.

Flames roared to life, consuming the room, but his gaze never left me—vicious and full of hate.

"If you hadn't interfered," he screamed over the fire, "she would have been the one to save me from the lab! It should have been her!"

I died in agony, skin blistering as the world turned to ash.

When I opened my eyes, the fire was gone.

In its place: the sterile white of the university hallway. The shrill ring of the lab alarm echoed in my ears.

I had returned.

I didn't plan to play hero this time. But curiosity gnawed at me. I wanted to see this "department beauty" he was so obsessed with. In the Forensic Science Department, I was the only female student.

So who exactly was this phantom woman?

——

The acrid scent of sulfur hit me, mixed with the chemical bite of formalin. It coated the back of my throat, bitter and sharp.

A dull boom rattled the end of the corridor, followed by a wet hiss—like flesh and plastic melting under intense heat.

My pulse quickened. I walked toward the source.

The lab door was ajar. Orange light flickered through the gap, thick black smoke curling into the hallway. The main alarm must have malfunctioned; aside from the local buzzer, the building was silent.

No one else knew.

I peered through the observation window.

There he was. Derek Finch.

His right leg was pinned beneath a collapsed steel rack, his pristine white lab coat scorched black. He must have sensed my presence because his head snapped up, panic warring with recognition.

Then he did something unexpected. He shook his head frantically, waving me off. Don't come in.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall.

The confusion cleared instantly.

He had been reborn too.

That was the only explanation. The old Derek would have been screaming for help by now. But this Derek was telling me to leave.

In our previous life, I had rushed in without a second thought. Pried the equipment off his leg. Dragged him to safety. And because of that, he convinced himself I had stolen his romantic moment—robbed him of a chance to be saved by his "true love."

That delusion eventually led him to burn me alive.

Phantom pain ached in my bones. Watching him struggle, panic etched into his soot-stained face, a cold smile touched my lips.

I had been so stupid.

I saved his life, and he treated it as an unforgivable sin.

The smoke grew thicker, waves of heat distorting the air.

Derek coughed violently, shouting through the haze, "Leave me alone! Get out of here!"

I raised an eyebrow. "What? You're just going to wait here and die?"

He choked, his gaze darting away before hardening with resolve. "I don't need your fake kindness! Someone else is coming to save me!"

"Oh?" I drawled, remembering his hysterical screaming on the night he killed me. My smile turned icy. "This Forensic Science beauty you mentioned? I'd love to see who she is."

Since the department was founded, it had been a monastery. Our cohort had exactly one woman: me. Not even a female transfer student to pad the numbers.

When Derek heard me mention the "beauty," his eyes lit up, fear receding slightly.

"Just you wait! She'll be here!"

I didn't argue. I simply stood my ground, watching the show.

Moments later, the click of heels echoed against tile. A crisp, feminine voice called out.

"Hello? Is something burning down here?"

I looked toward the sound.

The newcomer had delicate features and an innocent expression. Pretty, certainly.

But I knew one thing for a fact: she was definitely not a student in the Forensic Science Department.