3
566words
I was so tired—I just wanted it all to end.
Weak and unsteady, I gripped the cold railing and hauled myself up.
As a mission-taker, I wasn't supposed to get emotionally involved.
But I'd tried five times to win Lucas over—I'd spent what felt like a lifetime in this world.
How could I not be affected?
This last time had felt so close.
When I married Lucas, I truly believed he could learn to love me.
I looked down at the miniature cars moving like toys far below, closed my eyes, and felt the thunder of my own heartbeat in my ears.
The wind whipped my hair into a frenzy—I leaned forward.
Just a little more, and it'll be over.
I fell—but a hand shot out, grabbing my wrist with brutal force, yanking me back onto the solid concrete.
“Elara, have you lost your mind?!”
Lucas's face was inches from mine—angry, shocked.
“It's just saving a life! You agreed to donate to Isabella before! What's wrong with you now?”
“Elara, you used to be so kind.
What happened to you?”
My right shoulder screamed with a white-hot pain, it felt dislocated.
I lifted my left hand.
Slap.
The sound cracked through the air.
“Elara, are you insane?!”
Lucas's fair skin flushed red, veins bulging on his neck—finally, a flicker of genuine fear.
I didn't speak. I just started prying his fingers off my arm, one by one.
Every second spent in this world, breathing this air, made me sick.
Just as I was about to fall, another hand grabbed me—Adrian.
He looked stunned—maybe surprised someone as “selfish” as me actually choosing to jump was beyond his comprehension.
“Let go of me!”
It was the first time I'd screamed at them with pure undiluted hatred.
They dragged me back onto the rooftop, my body scraping against the rough surface.
Lucas's hand hung limply—he always treasured his surgeon's hands.
A bitter laugh echoed in my mind, How pathetic—I'm still worried about his hands.
For a fleeting moment, Lucas just stared at me, his eyes swirling with a pain I couldn't place.
Adrian gripped on my arm was vicelike, his rage Boiling over. “Elara, how could you! Were you trying to destroy his hands?”
“If you ruin them, Isabella will die! You know he's the only one who can properly treat her!”
I looked at Lucas's trembling hands—the ones hailed as “god-gifted” with a legendary their zero failure rate.
But heseemed to have forgotten—I was once a prodigy too.
My piano hands were destroyed because of him.
That summer when Lucas was kidnapped, the kidnappers didn't want a ransom—they wanted him dead.
When a blade was aimed at his heart, I had lunged forward and grabbed the sharp edge..
Blood soaked my fingers as I shielded him.
The Pierce family were all doctors—Lucas had a photographic memory and a genius for medicine.
Everyone said he was destined to surpass them all.
But because of that kidnapping, the trauma was said to have “ruined” his hands, his future shattered.
The system warned me not to interfere with fate, but I couldn't let him die.
The nerves in my fingers were severed—even after surgery, I'd never play the piano again.
Back then, Lucas had stayed by my hospital bedside, promising with sincere eyes, “I'll protect you forever, Elara. I swear it.”
