The Year He Hated Me Most - Chapter 2

I said it a hundred times in my heart.

My tears wouldn’t stop.

I felt my ashes drift away, scattered across the mountains and woods.

A little fell into a stray dog’s bowl and ended up in its belly.

Some landed in a stream, on the trees along the mountainside…

The last trace clung to Nan Heting’s lapel and the soles of his shoes, and went with him to the home we’d once shared.

Our marital home was a villa halfway up the mountain.

When we’d just married, I thought he’d chosen such a scenic, secluded place because my health was poor and he wanted me to recuperate.

Only when I gradually lost contact with the outside world did I realize that, too, had been part of his plan.

I was the Yan family’s cherished youngest daughter. He had to cut me off from everyone for his plan to work.

It made his revenge all the more satisfying.

I followed Nan Heting into the villa.

There were no servants. I’d taken care of everything myself.

He seemed to freeze for a moment as he changed his shoes, then scoffed and quickly put on a pair.

“Yan Mingmei, good thing you’re dead.”

I pursed my lips and followed him, angrily stepping on his shadow.

Nan Heting, you bastard.

I was dead, and you still hated me this much!

Nan Heting opened the fridge and poured himself a drink.

As he set the bottle down, he caught sight of a sticky note on the fridge door.

“Honey, I made your favorite cream puffs today. Don’t forget to eat them~”

It was dated December 28, the night before I died.

Nan Heting’s gaze dimmed. He crumpled the note and tossed it in the trash.

He didn’t even glance at my cream puffs.

I’d shaped them into hearts to make him happy.

They’d once been his favorite. Now he wouldn’t even look at them.

So even his liking the food I made had been one more way to deceive me.

For some reason, Nan Heting seemed downcast after seeing that note.

He lay on the sofa for ages, staring at the butterfly chandelier overhead.

If he could see supernatural things, he might have spotted me perched on one of its wings, watching him.

We’d bought it before our wedding. I’d loved it.

Miraculously, Nan Heting had loved it, too.

Back then, I’d been delighted that we’d finally found something we both liked. I had no idea the woman he loved was named Hu Die—Butterfly.

Once, after we were married, I’d gotten jealous and asked him about his first love.

He lay on the sofa with my head in the crook of his arm. Staring blankly at the ceiling, he said, “My first love turned into a butterfly and flew away.”

My heart clenched, and my urge to give him everything only grew.

I kissed his eyes and tried to comfort him again and again.

“Want me to be your butterfly?”

“My parents say I’m the most cheerful one in our family. I know I can make you happy!”

He said nothing. He only held me and trembled, pressing his ear to my chest to listen to my heartbeat.

His hands gripped me so tightly it hurt, but I never asked him to let go.

I mistook the hatred he kept bottled up for proof that I’d moved him.

Falling in love had robbed me of my ability to tell right from wrong.

I had only myself to blame for what he did to me later.