He Left Me in the Sky, I Came Back from the Dead Chapter 08

He Left Me in the Sky, I Came Back from the Dead Chapter 08

Ever since Lila came back, she’d taken over our master bedroom, and I was forced into the guest room.

When Alexander pushed open the door, the first thing he saw was a tiny half-finished baby sock lying on the

bed, the one I’d been knitting.

He walked over, picked it up with a trembling hand, his throat tightening.

Then he called his assistant again, voice hoarse, demanding a full investigation into everything that had

happened over the past few years.

He locked himself in that room for three days straight.

When the files finally arrived, thick folders neatly compiled by his assistant, he read through them one by

one.

And with each report, each photo, each record, his eyes grew redder.

Every time I’d been punished, every misunderstanding, every moment he’d looked at me with disgust, it all

traced back to Lila’s lies.

When he reached the last file, he froze.

It was old surveillance footage from the day his mother jumped off the roof.

The video was grainy, but clear enough to see who had clung to him, refusing to let go.

It was me.

In the footage, I was biting my lip so hard it bled, my arms slick with blood, yet still holding on to him with

everything I had.

His vision blurred. His eyes burned.

At last, he reached for the final piece of evidence, the flash drive the park manager had handed him.

It took him several tries to plug it in.

And the moment the video started playing, his whole body shook.

He watched me-weak, bleeding, terrified, still looking toward our baby even in my final moments, unwilling

to give up-and he fell off his chair.

He slammed the laptop shut, clutching his head in both hands.

In one fist was the divorce agreement I’d prepared before I died.

He broke down, choking on sobs. “I’m sorry, Grace…. I swear I didn’t know… I didn’t know…”

I hovered beside him, silent, not knowing whether to laugh or cry..

The truth was out now. Everything was clear.

But what difference did it make? I was already dead.

I’d once loved him to the bone, so deeply I’d forgotten myself.

But standing here, with all that love burned away, I saw him clearly for what he was.

A blind, self-absorbed man who mistook guilt for love, and used my devotion as a crutch while tangling

himself endlessly with his so-called first love.

A hypocrite who fed on loyalty while giving nothing back.

When Lila opened the door, a faint, gleeful sparkle crossed her face, quickly hidden beneath a mask of

sorrow.

“Alex,” she said softly, voice trembling with practiced grief, “I heard what happened to Grace. Don’t blame

yourself.”

“She was the one who provoked me first. You only asked her to ride that Drop Tower because you wanted to

defend me. In the end, she just got what she deserved. None of this is your fault.”

Her tone softened, coaxing. “You still have me, don’t you? I’ll always be here for you.”

Alexander let her wrap her arms around him, but his own hands began to tighten, inch by inch, around her

waist.

“Really?” he murmured. “Those text messages, you’re sure Grace sent them?”

Lila stiffened for a fraction of a second, panic flickering through her eyes before she forced a tearful smile.

“Alex, what are you saying? Sure, the messages came from an unknown number, but ever since I came back,

Grace’s hated me. Who else could it be? You even heard the voice recordings yourself. It was her voice,

wasn’t it?”

Alexander’s gaze darkened with grief.

That’s what he’d believed, too.

Who else could it have been?

He’d let Lila’s words sink into his mind, drip by drip, until he could no longer tell truth from poison.

She’d made him believe only I was cruel enough to drive her to the edge.

But now that the truth had surfaced, he finally realized those recordings only sounded like me.

If he’d just spent ten more seconds listening carefully, he would’ve noticed.

It wasn’t me at all.

And suddenly, his mind filled with the memories-every time Lila accused me, every time I tried to explain,

every time my voice broke while he turned away.

The last time he’d looked at me, I hadn’t even argued. I’d just stared back, empty-eyed, defeated.

He’d thought it was an act.

Now he understood, it was despair.

I had already decided that once the baby was born, I’d leave quietly, take nothing, make room for him and

Lila. But I never even got that far.

They’d taken even that from me, my life, my child, everything.

His hand slid up to Lila’s throat. Slowly. Gently at first, then tighter. She frowned in discomfort, trying to pull

back.

He loosened his grip, his expression softening again, unbearably calm.

“Yes,” he whispered, voice smooth and cold. “Who else could it be but her?”