That same day, she made a call to the people arranging burial ceremonies.
"Hello, nice talking to you. This is The Living Burial Ceremony," the customer care representative said politely.
Willow blinked, then scoffed. "Even your name contradicts itself. 'Living Burial Ceremony'?" she mocked.
"May I know what you want, ma'am?" the customer service voice continued, undeterred.
"I want to arrange a burial ceremony… but three months from now. Is that possible?" Willow asked, her voice oddly calm.
"Kinda possible, ma'am. Who are you making this preparation for? And what specific time?" they asked professionally.
Willow smiled faintly. "Willow Larkspur. Myself."
Silence.
The customer service agent ("_")
The customer service agent stared at the screen. She's probably just another prank caller, he thought, rolling his eyes. And then—he hung up.
"Did he just hang up on me?" Willow asked the empty air, her brows raised, lips parted in disbelief. She redialed.
"Hey, that's rude," she said when the call connected again. "How do I trust you with my lifeless body if you're already treating me like this while I'm still alive?"
"I thought you were joking around, ma'am. I'm sorry. So... who are you preparing this for?" the customer service voice said, now cautious.
"I said, myself." Willow repeated firmly, the tiredness slipping into her tone.
"Are you serious, ma'am?"
"Willow that's my name" Willow jest
Are you serious ma'am Willow the customer service agent asked again
"Yes," she replied. "I want to leave in style. I've worked so hard that I don't even take care of myself. So, I want to do a good job… when I'm gone."
There was a pause on the other end. "Ma'am, are you sure you're okay? Like really okay?"
"Yes, I am," Willow answered.
"No, you're not. And I suggest you visit a therapist or a mental asylum and please don't call this number anymore," the agent snapped and ended the call, clearly annoyed.
"He doesn't take me seriously... That's bad," Willow muttered, pouting like a scolded child.
"Mental asylum" Willow said as of she just recalled and just burst into a dry smile
---
The next day at work, Willow arrived at Cloud Shoe Company — where she worked as a senior designer.
She designed all types of shoes — heels, flats, men's wear — but her signature was heels. Elegant, bold, and one-of-a-kind.
She used to work from home, selling anonymously to different companies until Cloud found her and made her an irresistible offer. They not only made her their senior designer, but also paid her so well that other companies couldn't lure her away.
The Cloud are well known in the making of Footwear and designer bags not just in Country N but globally
Of course, in any company, not everyone would like her.
Cara, for instance, couldn't stand her. She hated that Willow was better at designing and constantly tried to bring her down.
Willow stepped into the building, dressed in a sharply tailored royal blue suit with pink heels and a matching bag — all from Cloud's luxury collection, and all her designs.
People greeted her with smiles and nods of respect. She smiled back briefly, keeping her usual graceful distance.
Once at her desk, she began prepping for the day when Elizabeth, a junior designer, approached her, beaming.
"Miss Willow, help me check this," Elizabeth said, proud of what she had drawn.
Willow examined it, then raised a brow. "This is nice... but this looks a lot like that design over there," she said, pointing at a design poster. "I get that it inspired you, but you need to make it new—fresh. Otherwise, it looks like a copy-paste job. You might even get arrested for plagiarism," she added with a deadpan expression.
Elizabeth laughed, knowing Willow wasn't joking... much.
"So what do you think I can do to make it look fresh?" Elizabeth asked eagerly.
"Change the color. And that flower — remove it. Find something else that fits better and paste it there," Willow advised.
"Miss Willow, how do you even get your inspiration?" Elizabeth whined like a curious kid. She was new, and everyone knew she had gotten in through connections — not skill. But she had heart, and that mattered.
Willow knew this, but didn't care about how Elizabeth got in. If someone had the passion, she was willing to guide them.
"You can get inspired from anything and anywhere," Willow said, unlocking her laptop and typing without looking at her.
"Willow, you really need to tell us your secret," Jasmine chimed in with a playful grin. "On a good day, you can draw up to ten different designs without repeating a single one!"
"Are you sure that's not a bad day?" Elizabeth joked, giggling.
"My inspiration comes from anything—watching movies, listening to music, the scenery and so on," Willow replied with a soft smile… a smile that never quite reached her eyes.
It never did. Even when she was happy, her smiles always carried a trace of sadness.
"But there are thousands of shoes here we can get inspired by. Just pick one, do something similar, and improve from there," Willow added, eyes still on her screen.
"Did you hear that, Elizabeth?" Jasmine said, still smiling. Jasmine was another designer — more of a color expert — and could tell you the perfect combination for any design.
"Okay, Miss Jasmine. Thanks, Miss Willow," Elizabeth said, returning to her desk.
"Remember to change the orange to emerald green and black," Jasmine called after her.
"Thanks, Miss Jasmine!"
Jasmine turned back to Willow. "What do you want?" Willow asked, already knowing Jasmine was fishing for something.
"You look kind of different. Are you… dating?" Jasmine asked slyly.
"How different?" Willow asked, printing out her document without even glancing at her.
"Like, beautiful-different," Jasmine replied with a teasing smile.
"The meeting is starting in five minutes," Cara interrupted coldly, then walked toward the boardroom.
"Cara must be a witch," Jasmine muttered. Willow chuckled quietly.
---
The Boardroom
The design team sat waiting patiently for the president.
A man, likely in his early thirties, stepped in. Dressed in a cream suit and polished shoes — confident, sharp, and clearly in charge — he entered
Reed Cloud
Followed by his assistant. Alex.
"Good morning, sir," the room chorused.
"Good morning," he replied, taking his seat at the head of the table.
The meeting went on for an hour, focused on the upcoming fashion event to showcase Cloud's footwear and designer bags.
Everyone offered input.
"All I want is for this event to be perfect. I won't tolerate any mistakes," Reed Cloud said firmly.
"Yes, sir!" they echoed again.
"Willow, are all the designs ready?" Reed asked.
"Yes, sir. They'll all be ready by this evening," Willow said professionally.
"I thought you were done already. The event is in three days. The designs aren't ready?" Reed's irritation was growing.
"We ran into some issues, but they've been resolved. Everything will be done today. Michael and I will make sure of it."
Michael was in charge of bag designs, supported by other staff.
"I hope you don't disappoint," Reed said sternly.
"We won't, sir," Willow replied.
"I trust you," he said before leaving the boardroom. The team returned to their departments.
---
Back in the design office...
"Willow, Mr. Reed wants to see you. It's urgent," said Alex, Reed's assistant.
"Okay," Willow replied, rising from her desk.
She walked to Reed's office and knocked.
"Come in," Reed called out.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Reed," Willow greeted politely.
"Willow, what's the meaning of this?" Reed snapped, waving a white A4 paper in her face.
Willow stood quietly.
"We're preparing for a fashion show, and you want to resign?" Reed was clearly angry. He had invested so much to get her, and now she was leaving?
He definitely won't allow it.
"I'm sorry, sir. But I need to take care of something urgent, and I won't be able to work for a while," Willow explained.
"Has another company reached out to you?" Reed asked.
"Of course they have, but I didn't respond to their offers. I'm not leaving because of that. This is personal," she said calmly.
"I don't accept this," Reed stated flatly.
"You're being unreasonable, sir," Willow said, her voice soft but firm. "I'm not leaving immediately. I'll stay until after the fashion show. And in the next three days, I'll hand over all my current designs to the company."
Reed frowned. "Can you at least tell me the real reason?"
"It's personal, Mr. Reed."
"Are you getting married?" he asked bluntly.
When did he get so nosy? Willow thought.
"Of course not. I wouldn't quit my job over marriage. I just want to cool off for a while."
"How long?"
"Three months," she said, lips flattening into a line.
Reed sighed. "Fine. I'll grant you a leave. But you're not allowed to resign or work for anyone else. Is that okay?"
"Okay, sir," Willow agreed with a faint nod.
In three months, I'll be dead, she thought quietly. No need to argue with the living.