One hour before the final walkthrough and lockdown of the wedding home, Celia Sullivan, the self-proclaimed sweetheart of Building 18, dropped a livestream link into the homeowners' group chat.
“I got property management to change every door lock in the building to my birthday! Now every time you come home, you'll think of me!”
In my previous life, I called the police immediately, then contacted the manufacturer to reset the master door system. That was the only reason every unit in the building didn't end up wide open.
But Celia's account got banned because of it, and my fiancé cornered me in the wedding home, eyes bloodshot, demanding answers.
“Cece just wanted to film a cute video of the whole building adoring her. Why did you have to destroy that?”
“If you hadn't stuck your nose in, she never would've slit her wrists!”
Later, they locked me inside the walk-in closet that had just been sealed for ozone disinfection, and watched me suffocate inch by inch.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact moment Celia posted that livestream link.
I looked at my phone. Half an hour ago, I had already deactivated my property management access. The lock on the wedding home displayed a red notice: password changes prohibited. I backed out of the homeowners' group chat without a second thought.
If everyone was so eager to gamble the entire building's security on her little stunt, then I wished them all the joy of leaving their front doors wide open.
——
The moment I left the chat, my fiancé Daniel Whitney's call came through. Celia's livestream thumbnail still filled half my screen.
She stood at the elevator bank of Building 18 in a white dress, phone raised, smiling that syrupy smile of hers.
“Today's the very first handover day for Building 18, and I want everyone to remember my birthday forever.”
The next second she aimed the camera at the lock on unit 1802 and punched in six digits.
One beep, and the door swung open.
The group chat exploded with praise.
“Cece is SO extra, I love it!”
“One birthday password for the whole building. Now THAT'S what I call a tight-knit neighborhood.”
“Every time I come home I'll think of Cece. Talk about a signature touch.”
I lowered my gaze to the lock management app on my phone.
“Current mode：Owner-independent management. Property management temporary access revoked. Password changes disabled.”
The red warning sat quietly on the screen, steady and still. Only then did I unclench my fingers.
In my previous life, the second I saw Celia livestreaming herself opening someone else's front door, I called the police and contacted the manufacturer for an emergency permissions rollback. That was the only thing that kept every unit people had spent half their life savings on from turning into an open showroom.
And what did I get for it?
After Celia's livestream account was banned, Daniel said I'd destroyed her influencer career. The neighbors said I'd blown things out of proportion and caused their handover inspections to be delayed.
In the end, I died in the walk-in closet of my own wedding home.
As the acrid sting of ozone flooded my throat, all I could hear through the door were voices cursing me out.
“Cece was just playing a harmless prank and you had to go nuclear, drove the poor girl to kill herself! Apologize. Now!”
The memory sent a cold smile across my face. This time, whoever wanted to play along with Celia's little performance was welcome to it. I was done saving them.
The phone was still ringing. I hit accept, and Daniel's voice slammed into my ear before I could breathe.
“Spring Calloway, what the hell is wrong with you? Cece was joking around! Why did you leave the chat?”
I leaned back into the couch, watching Celia's livestream as she popped open yet another unit's door.
“I don't appreciate people treating my home security like a joke.”
“Stop being so dramatic.” Daniel clicked his tongue in irritation. “Property management already said it's fine. They'll reset everything after tonight's inspection.”
“Changing owners' lock permissions without authorization, livestreaming residential security information to the public. If anything happens, someone's liable.”
He scoffed.
“You sell furniture for a living. What do you know about tech? Cece has a massive following. She's giving the complex free publicity. Everyone's grateful except you. You're the only one who cares!”
I said nothing. His tone got sharper.
“Get back in that group chat right now, apologize to Cece, and send her a cash gift to smooth things over. She was tearing up on the livestream just now because you left.”
