In my past life, I secretly adored Liam for four years. Then, I dated him for four more. Eight years. Eight years of my life, utterly erased the moment his childhood sweetheart, Valerie, returned. He ended things with me, no argument, no hesitation. I accepted it with a quiet, hollow resignation. No tears, no pleas. But days later, he was outside my apartment, live-streaming, kneeling, begging me to take him back. He claimed that even if we were truly over, he just wanted one last chance to celebrate my birthday, to hold me one more time. Swayed by the flood of online comments urging me to reconsider, my heart, foolishly, softened. I went downstairs. But the moment we met, he ended the live stream. And then, he produced an axe. He hacked at me, blow after brutal blow, his voice a frantic mantra. “You wanted to be separated? Fine. I’ll separate you.” I fought, thrashed, desperate to escape, but he stuffed my body into two canvas bags. Until my last breath, I couldn’t understand it. He was the one who wanted to break up. When he loved me, he wanted us to be inseparable. When he didn’t, he scattered me, piece by piece. I opened my eyes again. I was back. Back to the day of his live stream. The insistent ringing of my phone jolted me fully awake. My familiar bedroom, the pulsating name on the screen—I was certain. I had been reborn. The ringing grew more frantic, each chime like a relentless death knell, sending a sickening chill through me. Cold sweat beaded on my back and palms. Last time, it was this very day that Liam called, asking to meet. I had initially refused. He was the one who had discarded me. But then I saw him, live-streaming his public plea for my return, and my heart, pathetically, had softened. When I saw him in the underground garage at 11 PM, he strode towards me, clutching a massive bouquet of flowers. I thought he was genuinely remorseful, coming to apologize. I couldn’t have known it was just the beginning of a nightmare. “Liam, if you promise me you won’t see Valerie again, I’ll…” My words died in my throat as a hand clamped over my mouth and nose. A noxious, chemical scent filled my lungs, and darkness swallowed me whole. I woke again in a derelict slaughterhouse. Liam stood over me, an axe in his hand. I was tied to a cold, stone slab, utterly helpless, able to emit only a weak, whimpering sound. “Wh-what are you… doing?” Liam’s expression was a horrifying blend of agony and a twisted smile, making him look like a demon clawing its way out of hell. He didn’t answer. Instead, he blindfolded himself. His axe rose and fell, hacking at my body, indiscriminately, blow after blow. “Separated. This is true separation.” Soon, my flesh was torn, my bones splintered. The excruciating pain made me writhe and scream, but it was useless. “Why?” That was the last word I uttered. “Elara, don’t be scared. It’ll stop hurting soon. Then, we’ll both be free.” My disembodied spirit hovered, watching the stone slab turn crimson with my blood. My body, cut into pieces, was stuffed into two canvas bags. Only then did Liam collapse onto the ground, exhausted. Even as a ghost, I felt the phantom agony of my flesh being ripped from my bones. I wanted to hurl myself at him, to demand an answer, but my hands passed through his body like smoke. Liam didn’t even spare my shattered remains. He poured gasoline over them and set them alight, then buried the ashes. His eyes, though, were gleaming with a chilling excitement. “Now,” he whispered, “Valerie and I can truly be together.” Even in death, the question echoed: Why? Why couldn't he let me rest in peace? I didn't understand. He broke up with me. I didn't beg, didn’t cling. Why did I have to die for them to be together? And on my birthday, no less. Four years ago, on this very day, he had blushed and declared his feelings for me. This was the man I had loved for eight years. How could he be so cruel? The phone’s ringing shattered my thoughts, dragging me back to the present, reminding me of the bone-deep agony I had endured. I couldn’t bring myself to answer, couldn’t bring myself to hang up. I just flipped the phone over, silencing it. Once my racing heart began to calm, I opened my laptop. Logging into the video site as a guest, I searched the keywords burned into my memory. Sure enough, Liam’s live stream appeared. My hands clenched and unclenched, again and again, before I finally clicked. Just like last time, Liam was on screen, recounting our relationship. He didn’t mention Valerie at all, only that he hoped I’d give him a chance to end things amicably. “I just want to see her one last time. Our journey began on her birthday, and if it’s truly over, I want to see it through, to spend one last birthday with her.” The comments section exploded. Strangers were moved by his words, typing furiously. “I don’t know why you broke up, but love is worth fighting for!” “The chances of two people in the world truly loving each other are lower than winning the lottery. Go get her, man!” “If you’re begging for a second chance, you need to show some serious commitment. How about you ‘tip’ her five grand, just to show your sincerity?” Just like last time, my phone chimed with a bank transfer notification. Simultaneously, Liam displayed his own transfer of fifty thousand dollars on screen. “If she’ll just see me, I’ll give her anything.” He looked into the camera, his voice full of feigned desperation. “But she’s not answering my calls. Does anyone have other suggestions? I’m willing to try anything.” In my past life, it wasn’t his money that moved me. It was the sight of this normally aloof and proud man, looking so helpless, so desperate for strangers to offer advice. I had never seen him like that. Combined with the abruptness of our breakup, I decided to meet him, to hear his explanation. So I answered the call and went downstairs. My moment of weakness had cost me my life, torn limb from limb. Now, I knew the outcome. But seeing Liam’s face on the screen, a insidious voice still whispered in my mind, urging me to meet him. It even tried to convince me that maybe, just maybe, he had a good reason for what he did last time. The thought horrified me. My breath hitched, panic rising in my chest. I rushed to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face for several minutes until I finally calmed down. I stared at my reflection. “My love-struck brain is beyond saving, isn’t it? I know exactly how this ends, and I still want to see him.” Calmer now, I looked back at the screen. Liam’s head was bowed, as if in sorrow. A comment caught my eye. “Maybe she didn’t see her phone, or she’s asleep. Just go to her place directly, man! That’ll show real sincerity!” Then, another comment appeared, chilling me to the bone. “I urge you all, don’t meddle in other people’s fates. This guy, he looks sad, but there’s a cold glint in his eyes. He might be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Haven’t you heard about those dismemberment cases? When they love you, they want to be with you every second. When they don’t, they want to cut you into pieces. Don’t encourage him to go looking for her in the dead of night.” I hadn’t seen that comment in my past life. By then, I was already downstairs. And the outcome was exactly as that stranger had predicted: I was cut into pieces. As I stared, frozen, Liam suddenly lifted his head. “Then I’ll go to her place,” he said, a smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes. “I hope I don’t scare her. I’ll stop the live stream now, since it involves her address and other private information. Wish me luck, everyone.” He was smiling as he said it, but his gaze seemed to pierce through the screen, looking directly at me, as if to say, “I found you.” With that, he ended the live stream. A chill went down my spine. I didn’t even bother exiting the site; I just slammed the laptop shut, grabbed my phone and keys, and bolted out the door. Two elevators were ascending simultaneously. I had no idea which one he was in. As I left my apartment, I checked the lobby surveillance feed on my phone. I saw him step into an elevator. To avoid him, I decided to take the stairs. But as I hurried down to the tenth floor, a sudden, inexplicable dread seized me. I didn’t know if it was just my nerves, or if it was the intuitive warning of danger. I stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. I peered down the stairwell. The emergency lights below weren't on, meaning no one was coming up. But the inky blackness below felt like a bottomless abyss. Each passing minute felt like an eternity. Amidst the fear, a twisted sense of anticipation flickered within me. I must be insane. Had dying once left my brain damaged, my cells rewired? The stairwell was silent, amplifying the sound of my ragged breathing. As I hesitated, I heard footsteps from below. They were soft, too soft to trigger the emergency lights, but each step echoed like a hammer blow against my chest. I tried to reassure myself—my apartment was on the eighteenth floor; Liam wouldn’t take the stairs. But I couldn’t bring myself to move. Just then, the magnetic lock on the stairwell’s security door clicked open with a soft thwack. The sudden noise made me jump, almost screaming. I stared, wide-eyed, at the person who stepped through. Ethan, my colleague, looked equally startled. He was about to speak when I clapped a hand over his mouth, pulling him into his apartment. Only when the door was shut behind us did I slide down the frame, collapsing in a heap on the floor, utterly drained. He saw my sweat-soaked face and offered me a glass of water. “Professor Elara, what’s wrong?” My throat was parched. I snatched the water and gulped it down, too frantic to explain. “Do you have a security camera outside your door? Can you check the footage for me?” I had noticed a small camera above his door, pointed squarely at the hallway. My hands trembled as I watched the footage from a minute ago. A few seconds after Ethan and I closed his door, a hand pushed open the security door to the stairwell. Liam appeared, a bouquet of flowers clutched in his arms. He glanced around, then his eyes settled, dark and menacing, on Ethan’s door. He had taken the stairs after all. But why? I recoiled, pulling Ethan further away from the door. “It’s impossible. How did this happen?” He had taken the elevator! And there was no one on the stairs before. How could he have appeared on the stairs after entering the elevator? During our four years together, Liam and I had often shared this strange, almost telepathic connection. Before I even spoke, he would know what I wanted to eat that day, even if the thought had just occurred to me. Or he would give me gifts I desperately wanted, things he, a self-proclaimed ‘man’s man,’ would never have heard of otherwise. Even during arguments, he always knew exactly what triggered my anger, allowing him to apologize precisely. Back then, I thought it was sweet. It was chemistry, the deep understanding of two people in love. But now, it felt bizarre, terrifying. The sensation of being unable to escape him, no matter what I did, was suffocating. “Professor Elara, what are you talking about?” Ethan asked. Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door, followed by Liam’s voice. “Elara? Is that you?” I sank onto the sofa as Ethan took his phone, checking the security feed. “Did you run into some creep? Is he stalking you?” My body tensed. I couldn’t answer. He finished watching the footage and started for the door. His movement sent a fresh wave of terror through me. “No, don’t… don’t open it!” I clung to his arm, shaking my head frantically. Ethan was a new computer science teacher at our school, and we shared an office. We hadn’t really spoken much beyond work, so I was surprised to learn he lived just below me. Right now, he was my only lifeline. I had no idea what Liam might be carrying. Were the flowers hiding only a sedative, or was the axe there too? Seeing my entire body tremble, Ethan knelt down, his voice soft and reassuring. “It’s okay. Just relax. Take a deep breath.” As he gently pried my hands from his arm, I realized I had dug my nails into his skin, drawing blood. “I’m sorr…” My words caught in my throat as my phone screen lit up again. Seeing Liam’s name, I almost burst into tears. Even though it was on silent, my body reacted. I wanted to throw the phone, but I couldn’t risk making a sound. I just curled into a ball in the corner, clutching my head, unsure how much time had passed. Finally, Ethan’s voice broke through the haze. “It’s okay. He’s gone. Do you want me to call the police?” A thought struck me. I held out my phone. “Professor Ethan, can you check if my phone has any tracking software installed?” Half an hour later, Ethan confirmed there were no tracking apps or plugins on my phone. I also checked myself thoroughly in the bathroom—my clothes, hairpins, nothing seemed out of place. This only deepened my confusion. Could love really create a psychic connection? But he didn’t love me. If he loved me, why would he kill me? Finally, I gave Ethan a simplified version of what was happening with Liam. “He’s my ex-boyfriend. He broke up with me, but now he’s trying to get back together. I’m scared he’s unstable, so I’m trying to avoid him.” I only told Ethan that I’d seen too many news stories about spousal murders, and combined with the online comments, Liam’s late-night appearance had terrified me. Ethan didn’t press for details. He simply comforted me. “It’s always best to avoid meeting alone when there’s an emotional dispute. It’s smart for a woman to be cautious. You did the right thing. He doesn’t seem emotionally stable.” “I think you should call the police anyway, just to have a record.” I shook my head. It was useless. Liam didn’t leave the complex until an hour later. Ethan accompanied me home to pack a few things. I couldn’t stay there. But I was also scared to be alone in a hotel. Ethan took me in. I slept in his room, and he took the sofa. Last night, I had thought it through. I really couldn't call the police. Liam hadn't actually harmed me yet. Aside from coming to my home, he hadn’t done anything extreme. So all I could do was stay away. Thankfully, school was out for summer break. I remembered seeing a travel guide on Ethan’s bedside table and, brazenly, asked him, “Professor Ethan, are you planning to travel? Could… could I come with you?” He paused for a few seconds, then gave a resigned, slightly amused nod. “Yes.” On the way, I learned Ethan was going back to his grandmother’s in a quiet mountain village. I also agreed to pretend to be his girlfriend to help him avoid incessant questions about marriage. Ethan’s grandmother lived in a charming, old two-story house with a sunny rooftop terrace. The slow pace of life there calmed me. I couldn’t help but sigh. “I wish I could stay here forever!” “Then stay.” I was startled when Ethan’s grandmother appeared, carrying a stack of blankets. I guessed she was going to sun them. “Grandma, let me help you.” She sighed, pulling me down to sit beside her. “My grandson has no luck,” she lamented. “Such a wonderful girl, and she’s not even his.” My eyes widened. “Grandma, I…” She held my hand, her gaze piercing. She said she knew from the moment she saw me that I wasn’t Ethan’s girlfriend. As I wondered if Ethan and I had given ourselves away, her next words stunned me into silence. “There’s something inside you, child…” She paused, drawing a deep breath. “It seems to be part of a pair. It means you have a beloved, a soulmate.” “Grandma, stop scaring her with your nonsense! We believe in science. Elara, don’t listen to her. She used to tell me these crazy stories when I was a kid to scare me.” Ethan’s voice rang out, but I had a chilling feeling his grandmother was telling the truth. “Grandma, what did you see? What’s inside me? Is it a tracker?” Grandma looked more shocked than I was. “You didn’t know?” I shook my head blankly. Grandma grew visibly angry, muttering about “despicable villains” and “disgraceful acts.” She asked if anything strange had happened to me recently, and I told her about Liam.
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