4
449words
When my hands became useless, their attitude shifted to resentment.
Even the household staff began to mock me—life became unbearable.
Then Lucas saw Isabella playing piano in the sunroom, the light catching her hair just so, and it was love at first sight.
Maybe it's just fate for the second male lead to be destined for the female lead.
But he forgot—I was the girl who once played piano in that sunroom, the one who had dreamed with him about winning international competitions together.
“I never ask you to save me.”
I said, my voice flat as I turned back toward the edge.
Lucas shouted behind me, desperation clawing at his words,
“Elara, you know I'd never let you fall! I'll always catch you!”
“Is this really how you want to repay me? By destroying the hands that save lives?”
I paused and looked back over my shoulder.
A desperate hope flashed in his eyes.
Then I said coldly, “Your hands should've been ruined six years ago.”
Lucas's eyes widened, filling with a dawning, gut-wrenching pain—remembering the past, he stared at my hands, speechless.
Adrian was still fuming. “It's just bone marrow! Why are you being so dramatic?”
“Elara, remember your place! The Blackwoods raised you! Is it too much to ask for you to give back a little?”
I glanced at my “brother,” feeling a brief, sharp ache in my heart that quickly numbed,
“So you saved me just to keep your sister's donor alive.”
His face flushed with anger, “We're family!”
“Family?” I let out a hollow laugh, “You only say that when you need to sign a consent forms.”
“Did anyone ever ask what I wanted?”
I felt nothing. Just a vast, consuming emptiness. just wanted to die.
While the two men were momentarily stunned by my words, I gathered the last of my strength, sprinted the few steps to the edge and jumped.
Lucas and Adrian screamed,
“Elara!”
This time, their grasping hands closed on empty air.—I was free.
I'd asked the system to numb all physical pain.
No matter how frantically it buzzed in my head, begging me to reconsider, I ignored it.
But I didn't leave this world—I landed on an air cushion.
A crowd had gathered. People were filming on their phones. Firefighters pulling me to safety.
A reporter shoved a microphone in my face,
“Why did you jump?”
“How do you feel being saved?”
I saw Lucas frantically pushing his way through the crowd toward me, his face ashen.
I looked directly into the camera and said, my voice chillingly calm, "It seems I'm harder to kill than I thought.”
