I stared down at Frank Thornton, my eyes fixed on him, eager to know his reply. But he just got up from Rita Hart, silently adjusting his clothes, seemingly unwilling to answer.
The room was silent for a long time.
Forget it.
After all this tension, I deflated, my shoulders slumping.
I realized his answer didn’t seem so important anymore.
After all, I was already dead. Even if he married Rita Hart, there was nothing I could do. Even if he didn't marry her, we could never go back to how things were.
What’s the point? At this moment, everything felt utterly pointless.
I wanted to leave, to go wherever I was supposed to go.
I floated away, but just as I was about to exit the room, a sharp pain shot through my body. The pain felt like a saw tearing me apart; every movement was like countless silver needles piercing my heart and lungs. Just like when I was alive, I felt tiny beads of sweat forming on my forehead, my body trembling, my limbs stiffening.
As I felt my soul starting to dissipate, a black and a white figure gradually came into focus before my eyes. I watched their mouths move, then their voices reached my ears.
“You don’t want to leave because you’re trapped by your own regrets.”
“Only by resolving these regrets can your soul move on from here.”
...
When I opened my eyes again, I was back where I started, hovering in mid-air, digesting their words.
It took a while, but I finally understood what they meant.
It turned out I couldn't leave Frank Thornton's side. If I moved more than ten feet away from him, I’d be pulled back instantly.
They said I could only leave once I fulfilled my heart’s desire.
But what was my unfulfilled desire?