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Andrew listened to the secretary’s report, responding coldly with a single “hmm.”

After the secretary left, Andrew put down his pen and took out the medicine from his pocket. He took three pills at a

time.

His health was getting worse and worse, and the amount of medicine he took was increasing.

The doctor suggested that he see a psychiatrist.

But Andrew raised his hand and stroked my face in the photo, his eyes filled with unconcealed tenderness.

All I felt was empty as if something had been taken away from my body.

It was my feelings for Andrew.

My already transparent soul became clearer and clearer, until it almost disappeared.

The Angle of Death who came to take me away said that my time had come.

It had given me time to see the worldly things that I couldn’t let go of.

At night, I entered the dreams of my parents and my little brother.

I told them I was doing fine.

If possible, I would like to be their daughter and his elder sister in the next life.

Two years after I died, Andrew had heart problems and also suffered from severe depression.

I couldn’t see these anymore.

Everything about Andrew had nothing to do with me anymore.

I only hoped that in the next life, I would never meet