My Crush Only Loved Me After I Died

I whipped around, startled by a middle-aged woman casually leaning against the doorframe. Her eyes lingered on my bare shoulder, a sly smile curving her lips. I recognized her immediately—Rowan's distant cousin.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, hastily pulling my shirt back on and stepping back.

With an unsettling grin, she inched closer. "Rowan's mentioned you," she drawled. "Says you're quite the catch, even though your family's going through a rough patch. I'm divorced, got a kid, and I run a business. Stick with me, and you won't regret it."

A chill ran down my spine. Not wasting another second, I clutched my suit jacket and bolted for the door. She tried to block my path, but I shoved past her and burst into the bustling corridor.

I stumbled into the crowd of guests, drawing curious stares. The commotion caught Rowan's and Eloise's attention, the woman hot on my heels.

Feigning distress, she pointed at me accusingly. "He tried to attack me!"

"I didn't!" I protested, my voice shaking, my head spinning. In my haste, my wig had gone crooked, and my rumpled suit from dressing in a hurry only made me look more pathetic.

The woman seized the moment, her voice dripping with disdain. "Look at you, dressed like this at a wedding. Isn't it obvious you're just trying to snag a rich lady to leech off of?"

I opened my mouth, desperate to explain.

But someone in the crowd chimed in, "Come to think of it, Casey was always tailing Rowan like a lost puppy. Maybe he's just hoping some rich woman will scoop him up."

A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd.

Old whispers and rumors I thought I'd buried long ago resurfaced, threatening to drown me. In their eyes, I was never Rowan's friend—just some pathetic fool pining for what he could never have.

At that moment, Rowan suddenly released Eloise's arm and stepped forward. "Enough! Casey is my best friend. Anyone else who speaks against him will answer to me."

His jaw tightened, shielding me just like he did back in high school when he got into a fight to get my diary back. For a fleeting moment, I believed nothing had changed—that he was still the Rowan who'd take on the world for me.

But then, he drew me aside, away from the crowd.

"My cousin was out of line," he rushed out. "I'm sorry. But it's my wedding, Casey, please don't make a scene. I can ask her to give you some money. She's loaded; you'd be set for a while."

The last flicker of hope inside me died out. "I don't need money."

Rowan's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Please, Casey, I'm begging you. Don't ruin my wedding..."

A vice clamped around my heart, squeezing until I could scarcely breathe.

Then Eloise's cold voice cut through the tension beside me. "Not enough? I'll pay you myself."

With a flick of her wrist, she held out a wad of cash, like she was tossing scraps to a stray.

My gaze shifted from the money to her face.

There was no anger in her eyes, just a weary indifference. To her, this was a trivial matter not worth her full attention—a nuisance to be brushed off with a couple of bills.

Suddenly I remembered that rainy night when we were fourteen, and she handed me her umbrella, running off into the rain herself. I once believed in the quiet kindness of the world, that maybe I too could bask in its warmth.

Now I get it—some people give umbrellas not out of care, but out of convenience.

It was my own foolish delusion that kept me tethered to her all these years.

"No thanks," I said, pushing the money back at her.

Eloise's expression hardened.

Rowan wrapped an arm around her shoulders, murmuring, "Don't be so tough on him, Eloise..."

But his eyes showed relief.

It hit me—there was no reason for me to stick around any longer.

This time, no one stopped me.

By the time I left the venue, the sky had already darkened. The October wind slipped down my collar, sending shivers through me as I hunched against the cold.

I stood at the roadside for a while, unable to catch a taxi.

Then my phone buzzed in my pocket—it was the hospital.

A stern voice on the other end said, "Mr. Peterson, your hospital bill is three days past due. If you can't pay up today, we'll have to discharge you."

I hung up and checked the balance on my phone. Only $183 left.

After thinking it over, I decided to walk back from the outskirts.

At some point, the wind whipped away my wig, leaving my bald head bare to the biting cold.

Reaching into my inner pocket, I pulled out a small trinket. I walked over to a nearby trash can and tossed it inside.

From this moment on, I cut all ties with Eloise and Rowan. May our paths never cross again, not even in another life.