Years after graduation, my high school crush became an A-list superstar. When we reunited at a class party, his expression was ice cold. "Do I know you?" Everyone thought Parker had forgotten me. Until the news of my accidental death broke. While packing up my apartment, my best friend found an old love letter Parker had written to me years ago. June, loving you is too bitter. I don't want to like you anymore. But further down, in tiny handwriting: Never mind. I'm lying. That same night, the news of Parker’s suicide trended #1 on X (Twitter). When I opened my eyes again, I was back at that reunion dinner. Looking at Parker’s cold, indifferent face, I tentatively pulled out my phone and sent him a text. The very next second, his phone blasted a unique notification sound—the one reserved for "Special Contacts." Parker: "..." 1. I died in a blizzard. I went out looking for inspiration for my novel, got lost in the mountains, and froze to death. It was not a dignified way to go. My best friend, Zoe, rushed over the moment she got the call. She was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe while identifying my body. "June! How could you be so cruel? How could you just leave me?" "Even if Parker doesn't remember you, you still have me!" My soul was floating in mid-air, and hearing this made my spectral toes curl from second-hand embarrassment. If I wasn't already stone-cold dead, I would have rushed over to cover her mouth. Girl! The coroner clearly said it was an accident. Why are you making it sound like I died of a broken heart? Can’t a girl leave a clean reputation behind? But clearly, Zoe didn't think so. For some reason, she was convinced my death was Parker’s fault. She whipped out her phone and dialed his number. It rang for a long time before he picked up. "Hello?" A raspy male voice answered, sounding like he’d just been woken up. "Zoe? What is it? I just wrapped an overnight shoot..." "Parker," Zoe cut him off, her voice trembling with grief. "June is dead." Silence stretched on the other end of the line. Even as a ghost, I couldn't help but feel a tiny spark of hope. How would Parker react? Would he be sad? Or would he think it was just the passing of someone insignificant? After all, at the reunion a few days ago, he had been so cold. When our classmates tried to tease us, he just asked in a frosty voice, "Do I know you?" That one sentence froze the entire room. Meeting his indifferent gaze, the courage I had spent hours building up instantly evaporated. I just stammered, "N-nothing," and lowered my head, terrified to look up again. Actually... I understood. He was a top-tier celebrity now, and it had been six years since graduation. It was a good thing he didn't remember me. Otherwise, I’d always feel like I owed him something. "Parker, did you hear me?" Zoe screamed into the phone, crying. "I said June is dead! She's gone!" Thud. There was the sound of something heavy hitting the floor on the other end. Parker seemed to be gritting his teeth, his voice shaking. "...I don't believe you." The next second, he hung up. Zoe, furious and weeping, took a photo of my death certificate and texted it to him, only to find she’d been blocked. I wanted to comfort her, but my hand passed right through her shoulder. I ended up just hugging the air around her. Don’t cry, you dummy. 2. Five days after my death, Zoe brought my ashes back to the city. I didn't have much family in the country. My only brother was on a business trip overseas and was currently on a flight back. When Zoe carried my urn into my apartment, my Ragdoll cat, Nugget, hadn't eaten in two days. I had left three days' worth of food, thinking I’d be back. I never thought I wouldn't make it. Zoe used to come over all the time. Seeing her, Nugget immediately pounced, meowing for food. Seeing my cat triggered Zoe, and she almost started crying again. After filling the bowl, Nugget rushed to eat. Zoe walked into my study to start packing my belongings. I was a full-time author, so I spent more time in my study than my bedroom. The desk was exactly how I left it. Next to the computer sat a framed photo of our high school friend group. In the photo, Zoe was linking arms with me in the center, and Parker stood on the far right. Through the crowd, I was smiling at the camera, but Parker’s eyes were looking sideways—at me. Zoe was currently furious at Parker. She packed everything else and reached for the photo frame last. Just then, Nugget, full from dinner, zoomed into the room. Seeing Zoe reach for the frame, the cat launched a surprise attack. Crash! The frame hit the floor, glass shattering everywhere. Zoe jumped. She picked up the cat and noticed something tucked inside the backing of the broken frame. "Meow." Nugget realized he messed up and let out an apologetic squeak. Zoe bent down and pulled out a letter hidden behind the photo. It was a love letter. We were both confused. The paper was yellowed with age, but the handwriting was sharp and clear. Every word was filled with a hidden, grand, unrequited love. June, loving you is too bitter. I don't want to like you anymore. But further down, in tiny print: Never mind. I'm lying. When our eyes drifted to the signature, both Zoe and I froze. Signed: Parker. The current king of the entertainment industry. And my high school desk mate whom I had secretly loved for years. Suddenly, I remembered. Parker had given me this frame during our senior year. I had moved many times over the years, but I always kept this frame by my computer. I never knew it held such a secret. I thought back to the phone call—the way Parker gritted his teeth and said "I don't believe you" with a trembling voice. My heart ached unbearably. So ghosts can feel heartbreak, too? I watched Zoe whip out her phone and unblock Parker. But before she could dial, a breaking news notification popped up on her screen. #ParkerSuicide Zoe’s hands shook as she clicked the trending topic. A video from a gossip account with millions of followers had been posted ten minutes ago. An ambulance was parked outside a luxury villa, surrounded by security. The camera zoomed in. A hand hung limp from the stretcher—slender, pale, undeniably his. Dark red liquid dripped from his fingertips, splashing onto the ground like blooming flowers. The headline screamed: Parker found dead by wrist-slashing at home. Suicide note suggests he died for love. I stared at the words "Died for Love." My brain short-circuited. No, no, it shouldn't be like this... Why would he die? How could he die? In an instant, memories flashed through my mind like a reel of film. They stopped at that snowy winter day when we were seventeen. Parker stood at the bottom of the school steps, reaching his hand out to me. "It's a deal then, June." His eyes curved into crescents, his smile impossibly gentle. "When I become a superstar, you're going to be my manager." A gust of wind blew, covering the world in white snow. It felt like a long dream. 3. "June? June!" I snapped back to reality. "Why are you zoning out? Parker is here!" I looked at Zoe’s concerned face and felt my eyes sting. Thank god. I was back. Back to the night of the reunion. I looked up and locked eyes with Parker. In that split second, I knew exactly what he was going to say— Do I know you? "Why are you crying?" The voice from my memory overlapped with the voice in my ear. I looked at him blankly. "What?" Unlike the last life, Parker didn't ask who I was. He frowned slightly, repeating in a cold voice, "Why are you crying?" He started to reach out instinctively, then seemed to remember where we were and froze. He turned his face away, his frown deepening. I touched my cheek. I hadn't realized I was crying. "June?" Zoe noticed too. "What's wrong? Do you feel sick?" "N-no..." I took a deep breath, wiped my face, and pretended to rub my eyes. "I think an eyelash fell in my eye." So awkward. Crying right in front of him. Parker must think I'm insane. I peeked at him. He was talking to Zoe. Zoe was an editor at a fashion magazine now, the only one of us who crossed paths with Parker professionally. That’s why she had his number in my past life. The reunion had been planned for a month. Knowing Parker was coming, almost everyone showed up. Even as the food arrived, everyone’s eyes were glued to Parker. Some people are born protagonists. He just had to sit there to be the center of the universe. Separated by Zoe, I kept my head down and ate quietly. Seeing him alive was enough. If I don't die this time, he won't die either. After a few rounds of drinks, the Class President walked over to toast Parker. "Superstar! We thought you wouldn't make it. You really honored us by coming!" Parker smiled, politely taking a sip of his wine. The Class President’s gaze drifted to Zoe, then to me. He frowned. "Are you... June?" Suddenly, everyone looked at me. "It really is you!" The President got excited when I nodded. "You transferred so suddenly in senior year and cut off all contact. I thought you wouldn't come!" "Come to think of it, weren't you and the Superstar desk mates back then?" I felt Parker’s gaze land on me heavily. "Is that so?" I heard Parker’s voice, cool and indifferent, as if I meant nothing. "I forgot long ago." The food in my bowl had gone cold. I swallowed it. It tasted bitter. 4. The winter of our senior year, I transferred schools suddenly due to family issues. One day we were planning our future; the next, I vanished. For years, Zoe was the only one I kept in touch with. She knew my situation but never brought it up. The following summer, Parker exploded onto the scene via a talent show, taking the championship. That summer, his name was everywhere. The face I knew so well was on every TV screen. His songs played in every mall. Overnight, I went from the girl sharing his desk to just one of his millions of followers on Weibo. And finally, I could openly say: The person I like is named Parker. College out of state was lonely. Several times, I opened my chat with Parker, only to stare at the history and stay silent. June, where are you? June, you're late. June, what happened? June, it's snowing. Bring an umbrella. Further down were dozens of missed calls and worried messages. The last message was sent at midnight, nine hours later. June, I'm not waiting anymore. That was New Year's Eve. We had planned to meet, and I stood him up. I typed and deleted, typed and deleted. Suddenly, my phone rang. I jumped. Seeing the caller ID, I instinctively answered. I heard his familiar breathing. My throat went tight. I didn't know what to say. "June..." He sounded like he was grinding his teeth. "Speak." "What does 'typing' for ten minutes mean?" I took a breath and whispered, "Are... are you okay?" His breath hitched. I had imagined our reunion a thousand times. But in the end, separated by a screen, I only heard his cold voice. "Thanks to you, I'm doing great." After a long silence, I managed a dry reply. "That... that's good. I hope you get even better. Become a huge star. Have a smooth path..." Beep— He hung up. I stared at the screen, laughing and crying at the same time. Later, he did exactly as I said. He became huge. His path was smooth. And my grand, secret, youthful crush quietly came to an end.
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