Dead Wife, Lost Dog, and Her Return

I stand before the grave of my late wife, Casey Hill, having repaid her debts for five years. When I return home, I realize that our dog, Pudding, has gone missing. It is the only memory Casey has left me. I search everywhere frantically, eventually finding it hovering between life and death in an alley. Standing at the side is a girl. She points at Pudding and laughs gleefully to her friends. "Are you guys seeing this? This little guy is tough. We've played with it for so long, and it's still breathing!" I shove her aside and pick it up, my eyes bloodshot. The blood on Pudding's fur makes my heart ache so much I can hardly breathe. The girl utters a yelp as she falls to the ground. Furious and embarrassed, she picks herself up and kicks me hard in the head. "You bastard! How dare you push me for this filthy little beast! Do you know who my mom is?" With my head spinning from the blow, I suddenly hear a woman's voice. "Jenna, what's wrong? Who bullied you?" I snap my head up. There it is, the face I have wished to see in my dreams for the past five years. Chapter 1 The woman standing before me wasn't wearing the inexpensive T-shirts we used to buy from street vendors. Her eyes weren't the same sunken ones I once knew from when we were pulling all-nighters to start a business. She was wearing a black couture suit that was made just for her, and on her wrist was a watch that sparkled with such commanding brilliance. It was something I could never afford even if I worked three jobs for a lifetime. Her hair was neatly combed too. The naivety and destitution that once characterized her eyes had vanished. They had been replaced by a sense of dignity and arrogance that was recognizable only to those seated on top of the food chain. Even so, I knew she was Casey Hill, my "dead" wife. At that moment, my breathing stopped. It felt as if all the blood had been drained from my body. "C-Casey?" I asked tremblingly, my voice hoarse. Accompanied by the pouring rain, my tears fell on Pudding's blood-soaked fur. Hearing my voice, she cast a lazy glance in my direction. The moment she had a good look at my face, I saw her pupils contract sharply. She abruptly stopped in her tracks before reaching the girl she called Jenna, her fingers curling slightly at her sides. Ignoring the mud on the ground and the dying Pudding in my arms, I staggered to my feet and rushed toward her. "Casey! You're alive? It's been five years. Where—" "Mom! Mom!" Jenna, the obnoxious girl who had kicked me in the head, sobbed. Looking as if she had encountered the greatest villain in the world, she threw herself into Casey's arms and clung to her leg. She pointed at me and continued, "That crazy man hit me! He shoved me for that filthy little beast! Mom, you have to avenge me! Lock him up!" My steps faltered when I heard the word "Mom". It felt as if I had been hit by an eight-ton truck. My head was already spinning from the earlier blow, but that moment intensified it even further. Not only did Casey fake her death for five years, but she also had a daughter. Before I could reel in from the shock, I heard the quick sound of leather shoes hitting the ground. "Jenna! My baby, why are you covered in mud?" A man wearing a tailored shirt and sporting slicked-back hair hurried over, holding a black umbrella. He wrapped his arms around the girl gently, then lifted his head and shot me a deadly glare. When he saw me, a flicker of guilt and panic flashed across his eyes. He turned to look at Casey, his brows furrowed and his face filled with anguish. He looked as if he was holding something back, despite feeling deeply aggrieved. "Casey, aren't you seeing this? The child you raised is being bullied. And who is this lunatic? He looks like a beggar, and he's holding a dead dog. How disgusting!" Casey gave me a profound look. Shock and a fleeting hint of agony were written in her eyes. But she ultimately masked them all beneath a facade of indifference. She reached out, gently patting the man's shoulder in comfort. Then, she shot me a cold look, her lips parting slightly as if she had something to say. When she finally spoke, her words stung worse than the winter cold. "Sir, it's my daughter's fault for hurting your dog. But you pushing her is too much. I'll compensate you ten times the cost of the dog's medical bill, but you have to apologize to my daughter." Chapter 2 "Sir?" I repeated, breaking into an incredulous smile. I had so many questions for Casey, but the words eluded me somehow. I looked at her quietly, trying to decipher whether she was human or a ghost. Pudding, who was in my arms, turned to look at her and let out a soft whimper. It struggled to lick my fingers that were covered in mud and blood. My entire body froze. When I looked down, its eyes were starting to glaze over. At that moment, nothing mattered more than Pudding. I shot Casey a piercing look, shoved past her, and ran to the nearest pet hospital with Pudding in my arms. She didn't follow. No one did. But it was already too late. Pudding was old. And yet Jenna had tortured it so badly that its organs and flesh could no longer function. On the operating table, Pudding used the last ounce of its strength to look at me, its eyes filled with longing and reluctance. Then, slowly, it closed them. A harsh straight line appeared on the monitor. "I'm sorry. We did our best," the doctor said with a sigh and handed me a white cloth. I accepted it stiffly and wrapped it around Pudding's tidy body. It was so small. It had been just like that when Casey and I found it eight years ago. She had said that fate had brought us together and suggested that we become its parents. She promised she would work hard so that Pudding and I could live a good life. After her death, I wanted to let her leave this world free of debt. I ended up taking on a huge debt of three million dollars from her failed business while holding on to the only memento she left me. I walked down the bustling street, holding Pudding's urn. The rain had stopped, and the city returned to its chaotic state with neon lights flickering all around me. Yet my world was as still as death. I didn't know how I made it back to that 215-square-foot basement unit I rented. As I pushed open the rickety wooden door, a familiar musty smell washed all over me. The unit had no windows or exposure to sunlight. The peeling walls looked like patches of hideous scars. I gently placed Pudding's urn on the table, next to a photo of the three of us. In the picture, Casey and I were 24. I was smiling brightly, and she was totally focused on me. I reached for the frame and slammed it down on the table. Lying in the center was a thick brown envelope. There were 50,000 dollars inside. That was the money I had scraped together by working three jobs—hauling goods at the supermarket during the day, washing dishes at a street food stall at night, and copywriting late into the night. I even had to stretch a single plate of pasta over several days. It was the final installment of the three-million-dollar debt. I picked up the envelope with trembling hands. It was heavy, but not heavier than the thin sheet of paper lying under it. It was a medical report from the hospital. "Name: Zachary Dawson Age: 32 Diagnosis: Late-stage stomach cancer." I stared at those words on the paper, finding them utterly absurd. The doctor had stated that my stomach was damaged due to extended periods of overwork, malnutrition, irregular eating habits, and extreme emotional distress. I had worked so hard from the age of 28 to 32, but they all felt meaningless. Chapter 3 In the quiet basement, I let out a hysterical laugh. My laughter grew sharper with each breath, until it broke into a heartbreaking wail. Intense grief and anger surged within me, like a blade of thorns stabbing at my soul. Five years ago, Casey had been carrying our child. But due to the exhaustion of starting a business with me and the lack of nutrition, the child turned into a pool of blood one night and flowed out of her body. She kneeled by the hospital bed, reduced to a sobbing mess. Slapping herself in the cheek, she said, "Zach, it's all my fault. I've failed to protect our child. But don't worry. I swear, I won't ever let you suffer again, even if it costs me my life!" Yet, just this morning, she had let another child kick me in the head, allowing others to humiliate me. Our child and Pudding had died, and I would soon follow them. But Casey was still living a good life. Suddenly, an excruciating pain tore through my stomach. I made a run for the small bathroom and collapsed over the toilet bowl, vomiting violently. All that I threw up was bile since I hadn't eaten all day. It hurt so much, as if my organs were burning in a scorching fire. I coughed so intensely that a metallic taste began to fill my throat. With a cry, I spat out a mouthful of blood, staining the white toilet bowl red. As I stared at that glaring pool of red, my last bit of energy was sapped out of me, and my vision blurred. … It was the blinding sunlight that woke me up again. I lay on the cold bathroom floor, my body stiff as a stone. I was already numb to the pain in my stomach. At that moment, I felt strangely calm. I picked up the envelope filled with cash and walked out of the basement. That day was the day when I had promised Madison Gray, my biggest creditor, that I would repay the last installment. When I arrived at her billiard hall, she was puffing on a cigarette and twirling a cue stick in her hand. I walked up to the table and no longer showed her the respect I once did. "I'm not paying you today," I said in a soft but clear voice. "Casey is still alive, and her life is much better than ours. But I'm sure you already know that. She drives a Maybach and wears designer clothes worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. She doesn't need to borrow anything from you. Don't you agree?" For the first time, I saw a helpless look on Madison's face. I had hit the nail on the head. She was so shocked that she forgot to stop me when I turned to leave. I pushed open the door and strode out. Outside, the sunlight was shining down brilliantly. I looked at the money in my hand, feeling all the more relaxed. I had traded my life for the money. It would be foolish of me to give it to a liar. For the next seven days, I lived the most extravagant and craziest days I had ever had in my 32 years of life. I took the money to the city's most luxurious mall and bought the suit I had long admired through the glass, never daring to touch. I cut my hair, shaved off my stubble, and dined at a restaurant where the wagyu beef cost 500 dollars per person. However, because I had developed stomach cancer, I couldn't digest such expensive meat at all. I would throw up in the bathroom the moment I took a few bites. Nevertheless, I still forced myself to chew and swallow them. Then, I booked a suite with a river view at a five-star hotel. While soaking in a bathtub sprinkled with rose petals, I gazed out at the bustling yet indifferent city. For the first time, I paused to take in the neon lights shining in the night and enjoy the warm breeze brushing across my face. I realized, at that moment, that that was what it felt like to be alive. Chapter 4 On the afternoon of the seventh day, Casey came to find me, asking me to meet her at a members-only cafe. In the VIP room, she sat on the leather couch across from me, her eyes filled with disbelief when she saw how pale I was. She parted her lips, seemingly wanting to say something. "Zach…" I ignored her, flipping through the menu. When I reached the last page, I scoffed. "Ms. Hill, a cup of coffee here costs 100 dollars. Seven years ago, you would have had to hand out flyers for seven days just to afford that." The blood drained from Casey's face. She looked at me with pain and struggle in her eyes. She grabbed my hand abruptly and said, "Zach, don't talk to me like that. I know you hate me. I was cold to you that day at the alley. But I had my reasons! Just hear me out, okay?" I stared at her silently, waiting for an answer. She dared not look me in the eye. Averting her gaze, she spun a ridiculous tale. She said she was the only daughter of the Hill family and that she had pretended to be ordinary to prevent anyone from coveting her inheritance. The past five years had been a test for me. She would marry me if I cleared her debts. And that man, Micah York, was only her childhood friend, with nothing more to their relationship. He was a divorcee, and she was only helping him. The more I listened, the more ridiculous I found it. I burst out laughing, doubling over. "Zach? Why are you laughing? Don't scare me!" Casey panicked, standing to pull me up. I was still laughing when I felt a sharp cramp in my stomach. The familiar, excruciating pain washed all over me again, harsher than before. I covered my mouth but couldn't stop the torrent of blood from gushing out through my fingers. It splattered across the white table cloth and stained her expensive designer clothes. Finally, I stopped laughing. Casey stood rooted in her spot. She looked at the blood on her clothes, then at me, a look of horror in her eyes. My mouth was full of blood, and I was on the verge of collapsing. "Zach! Zach, what's wrong? Why are you coughing blood?" She rushed over to hold me, her voice trembling. Just then, her phone on the table rang. Upon glancing at the caller ID, she immediately picked it up. Micah's frantic voice rang out. "Casey! Where are you? Jenna's missing! She said she was going to buy ice cream, and then she just disappeared! I'm scared. Come back and help me find her, please…" Casey stiffened. She looked at me, bleeding out in her arms, while listening to Micah's heartbroken cries over the phone. Slowly, she let go of her arms around me and dialed 911 in a matter-of-fact manner. Avoiding my gaze, she stammered, "Zach, wait here for the ambulance. The doctors will be here soon. Jenna's missing. Micah can't handle it alone. I have to go… I swear, I'll be with you at the hospital once I find her. Just wait for me!" Having said that, she didn't stay for a second longer and frantically ran out of the room as if I were some kind of monster. I no longer had any strength to call out to her. My vision darkened, and the voices around me were getting fainter. I slowly closed my eyes, allowing the endless darkness to consume me.