My throat tightened. I could only nod weakly. Maybe if I gave them everything, they would finally talk to me with a smile. I held back my tears. I wondered… When they found out I was dead, when they learned what Emma had done, would they still be smiling? Would they feel even the slightest bit of regret? I discharged myself and went home. David White, my husband, and our daughter, Betty White, were making handmade chocolates, and an apple pie was baking in the oven. They were laughing happily, not noticing I had come in. It was not until David washed his hands that he noticed me. His smile vanished instantly. "You should've called first." I stared blankly at the card on the dining table. It was made of pink paper, decorated with glitter and little stars. Two neat lines of handwriting read: "To the most beautiful godmother, Emma." "To our dearest Emma, may you always be happy!" It was signed with my daughter's name. Beside it was David's messy but affectionate scrawl. "The apple pie I baked for you should be ready soon. No sneaking bites!" I only found out David could cook when I was dying. While I was alive, I worked myself to the bone providing for this family, handling the money, the meals, the house… All I got in return was criticism and disdain. Before, I would have broken down, demanded answers, or picked a fight. At this point, I said nothing. I just went to the bedroom and began packing my things. "Jasmine, there's something I need to discuss with you. It's… about your sister, Emma." David came to speak with me. "After her surgery, Emma's health has been really weak. My parents found a fortune-telling master back home. He said Emma has to get married to recover. They haven't found a suitable guy on short notice, so… they want me to marry her first. They think it'll help her get better…"