After My Death, The Actor's Regret

Clayton Murray and I were of the level of best actor and best actress in the entertainment industry.

In public, we were the perfect couple, but behind closed doors, we tormented each other.

On my twenty-ninth birthday, while he was taking a shower, I checked his phone for the first time.

For two years, he was secretly maintaining a relationship with a young college girl while I was unaware.

When Clayton found out I had discovered his secret, he didn't offer any excuses; he simply lit a cigarette in silence.

Then he said, "Eva, she reminds me of you when you were younger."

I slapped him across the face.

"I'm still here, you know. What the hell are you doing with this, starting to reminisce already?"

But Clayton didn't know that I was indeed going to die.

Before I passed away, I earnestly instructed my bestie, Millie Wallace, "If Clayton ever regrets it and wants his ashes buried with mine, you must dig him up and make sure he's never buried with me."

1

The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom.

Clayton was showering.

I pulled his phone from his coat pocket and, when the screen lit up, I tried entering my birthdate date.

It unlocked.

A strange feeling stirred within me.

Clayton's Whatsapp account had not many contacts, apart from a few family members, it was just me.

I couldn't help but click into the chat interface between Clayton and me.

The most recent chat date still showed a month ago, when we had an argument and I deleted him. It was his first message after being re-added.

The message was, "Eva Holt, are you crazy?"

I hadn't replied yet.

After browsing his phone for a while, I lost interest and turned off the screen.

Just as I was putting his phone back, my hand suddenly froze mid-air.

At that moment, a feeling that I couldn't quite put into words rose up in my heart, and I browsed his phone again.

This time I found Clayton's another account on the page of switching Whatsapp account.

As I clicked to switch accounts, my heart inexplicably raced.

After logging in to the new account, a series of prompts sounded one after another, a cute anime girl's avatar appeared in front of my eyes, and numerous unread messages were displayed.

My hand trembled so I accidentally tapped several times before opening their chat.

"Clayton, it's my birthday today, and you weren't there!"

"I'm angry. Not talking to you anymore!"

These were the latest messages, followed by a selfie of a girl eating a small cake.

"The cake is delicious. Thanks, Clayton. Love you."

A continuous roar echoed in my mind.

Clayton, who had been with me for nine years, had cheated on me.

It was the only thing that I could confirm in my chaotic mind.

After taking a moment to collect myself, I went to the balcony and lit a cigarette in silence. Then I enlarged the selfie of the girl.

Strangely, my first thought wasn't about how beautiful she might be.

Instead, I commented, "She's so young."

The record slid up, revealing many daily moments shared by Clayton and the girl. In terms of the density of their chats, the girl was extremely proactive and would send many messages, while Clayton spoke less.

But he occasionally took a photo of the sky's scenery and a picture of himself working and show them to her.

I thought that by this age, I would be able to accept many things, including the fact that my bedfellow is no longer mine.

But I couldn't help but curse and took a deep drag on the cigarette I was holding between my fingers.

Staring at the cute bunny emoji on his phone, I could oddly imagine Clayton, who was usually serious, softened into a smile.

Over the years, to avoid arguments, Clayton and I had a rule, if we could call, we wouldn't text; if we could text, we wouldn't use the Whatsapp.

Let alone send emojis.

I didn't know when the cigarette burned out, but a sudden sting brought me back to reality.

No wonder entering my birthday date could unlock his phone.

It turned out that my birthday and the girl's birthday were on the same day.

2

Clayton stepped out of the shower and immediately noticed the mobile phone on the coffee table.

"Did you browse my phone?"

I glanced at Clayton. His face was expressionless, not even a hint of tension.

He was quite different from the men who became enraged and demanded to know why their partners had browsed their private messages without permission when they were caught.

I thought, perhaps our relationship had been rotten for so long that such incidents seemed trivial.

I stated firmly, "You cheated, Clayton."

He answered evasively, "I have never slept with her."

I scoffed, "So should I give you a medal for that?"

Clayton frowned and said, "Eva, can't you speak nicely?"

I hurled a cushion at him, "Clayton, you fucking better get it straight. You're the one who cheated, yet you still act so self-righteous?"

He didn't say anything and just picked up the lighter I had used on the coffee table and lit a cigarette silently.

"It wasn't about physical attraction, Eva.

She reminds me of you when you were younger."

Look at that, he was the one who cheated, yet he could still say something like he made a mistake, but it was not that bad.

I didn't doubt Clayton's honesty, but I thought his mind was more depraved than those men who went to brothels.

Not being completely bad wasn't a virtue in a man; it was a lack of courage to face losing you, so they were still leaving themselves the opportunity to hurt you.

Clayton thought that by not sleeping with the girl, he had made a significant effort for our relationship.

He had even anticipated this outcome of me finding out.

So he would not panic or lose his composure, because he had already planned his escape route.

He was just telling me that he had never slept with her, so it was not real cheating.

I stood up and slapped him hard, "Clayton, I'm still here, you know. What the hell are you doing with this, starting to reminisce already?"

He turned his face, maintaining the posture of being slapped, with the emotions being ambiguous and inscrutable.

I said, "Let's break up."

He grabbed my arm, his voice tinged with frustration, "Do we really have to end it like this?"

I stared into his somewhat regretful eyes, "Do you remember the promises we made to each other when we first started dating?"

"Clayton, this time you've crossed my line."

I pulled my arm back forcefully, and he stumbled back a step, his pupils constricting.

While packing my bags, I thought he must have recalled the promises we made to each other when we first started dating.