Can 'When I'M Gone I'M Never Really Gone' Inspire Memorial Ideas?

Olivia Fordham was married to Ethan Miller for three years, but that time could not compare with the ten years he spent loving his first love, Marina Carlton. On the day that she gets diagnosed with stomach cancer, Ethan happens to be accompanying Marina to her children's health check-up. She doesn't make any kind of fuss, only leaving quietly with the divorce agreement. However, this attracts an even more fervent retribution. It seems Ethan only ever married Olivia to take revenge for what happened to his little sister. While Olivia is plagued by her sickness, he holds her chin and says coldly, "This is what your family owes me." Now, she has no family and no future. Her father becomes comatose after a car accident, leaving her with nothing to live for. Thus, she hurls herself from a building. "The life my family owes will now be repaid." At this, Ethan, who's usually calm, panics while begging for Olivia to come back as if he's in a state of frenzy …

【Terminal illness+ Betrayal+Bitter Love+werewolf+Regret+ countdown】This is a series of stories, and each can be read independently. I gave him my heart, literally. Three years ago, when Blake was dying from heart failure, I was the only compatible donor. I didn't hesitate, I let them cut out my beating heart and put it in his chest, accepting an artificial replacement that was never meant to last forever. Now my mechanical heart is failing and Blake? He's too busy planning his wedding to another woman to notice I'm dying. Lydia offers him everything I can't, political connections, a path to becoming Alpha, and a future without a sickly mate dragging him down. He calls it a marriage of convenience and promises he'll come back once he has what he wants. But I've spent three years watching him choose her over me. I'm done waiting. In thirty days, I'll undergo the Soul-Severing Ritual. My memories, wolf, and my very existence, all of it will be erased. I will disappear from the world completely. And Blake will finally understand what it feels like to lose someone who loved him with her whole heart.

The first experiment in the world of retrieving memories after death succeeds, and my memories are going to be broadcast live all over the Internet. My dad has just learned about my death, but he only says in a disgusted tone, "Who would want to see the memories of someone who is selfish, mean, and has nothing commendable at all about them? Today is the wedding day of Zoe and Cameron. Pause the live broadcast and stop being so sickening!" Zoe is my stepsister, and Cameron is supposed to be my fiance. After that, my father finds out the truth from the live broadcast of my memories. He begs for my forgiveness tearfully but… I'm already dead.

I was the stand-in who looked most like my husband's first love. He put me through countless plastic surgeries, both major and minor ones, until I became her exact likeness. But then, she came back from the dead. All it took was her saying, "I don't like anyone looking like me," and he sent me right back to the operating table once more. I begged him, telling him that my body couldn't handle it anymore. Alas, he only looked at me with irritation. "Seeing that cheap imitation of her face just disgusts me," he sneered. "No matter how close you come, you'll never be her." In the end, I died on that operating table. Yet, he went mad, trying desperately to recall what I once looked like.

Right after I die, my wife goes on a date with her first love. I once told her, "If I die, I swear I won't love you in the next life." She scoffs. "Gladly. But people like you live forever, don't they?" Just as she wishes, I die. However, right then, she holds my urn close, whispering, "Are you still mad at me?"

In the third year after my death, my mother finally remembered me. But it wasn't out of longing—it was because my younger sister's leukemia had relapsed, and she urgently needed a bone marrow transplant. Clutching a donation agreement, my mother made her way to the basement I once lived in. She kicked open the door and was met with a floor slick with blood and scattered medicine bottles. "Cassidy, what game are you playing this time? Do you really think a self-inflicted act of suffering could fool me? Why are you so selfish? Why won't you save your own sister?" Her voice roared with anger, echoing through the space. From the crowd that had gathered to watch, a ragged little boy stepped forward. "Are you talking about Cassidy Porter? She… she died three years ago of organ failure… she vomited so much blood…"