Part 3Now It's My Turn to Fall

The suffocating sensation clutched my throat, my vision blurred, and my chest felt heavy and painful.

Less than twenty seconds passed before my lungs began to spasm violently.

I vaguely stared at the ceiling, countless memories rushing back.

Seventeen-year-old Chloe smiling at me:

"When we go to college, let's have a whirlwind romance, okay?"

I gently held her in my arms, listening to her accelerating heartbeat.

Twelve-year-old Jake clapped his hands nearby, cheering us on.

Soon, the memories replayed like a movie, going from seventeen to twenty-seven.

I closed my eyes, quietly accepting my death.

The next second, I heard Chloe's anxious voice:

"Doctor! He suddenly stopped breathing!"

Someone rushed to put the oxygen mask back on me.

A flood of oxygen rushed into my lungs.

I wanted to cough, but my chest felt compressed, like it was filled with trapped air, making it hard to breathe.

When I woke up again, I saw Chloe's haggard eyes.

She was watching over me by the hospital bed, faint dark circles under her eyes.

Her eyes were bloodshot.

Seeing me awake, she slapped me.

The sharp crack echoed, and my head snapped to the side.

She screamed, cursing:

"Can you just stop messing around, stop tormenting me, please?"

"Are you satisfied, seeing everyone running around frantically because of you, huh?"

I bit my lip, tasting blood in my throat.

The pain left me disoriented.

I could only instinctively mumble:

"Die, make you happy."

"Chloe, I want you to be happy."

After I said that, Chloe's body stiffened slightly.

Tears welled up again.

"Those were just angry words, don't listen."

How could they be just angry words?

On the day of the fire, when she dragged me out, her eyes were filled with panic.

She even unconsciously said:

"We don't owe you anything anymore. If there's a future, please let us finally be together, just us?"

Back then, I was bewildered.

What was a "next life"? What was "being together"?

Now I understood.

Only if I died, would we have a next life.

If that's the case, I'd do anything.

For Chloe's happiness, even if I died, it would be worth it.

Perhaps she saw the resolve in my eyes, because she hugged me, repeating over and over:

"Leo, you have to live."

"I swore I'd never leave you, and I'll keep that promise."

Chloe's voice was soft.

More than speaking to me, it was as if she was speaking to herself.

Watching her cry, my heart twisted with an agonizing ache.

Only by clenching my fists could I forcibly suppress the pain.

That night, Chloe arranged for my discharge.

When we got home, Jake stared at me deeply, then his hand reached for my neck.

His voice was full of helplessness and pain:

"Brother, sometimes I really wish it was me who became simple-minded."

"Why did you save me, forcing me to owe you so much?"

His hand gradually tightened, but I began to struggle wildly.

No!

I couldn't die by Jake's hand.

I grabbed his arm and bit him fiercely.

Jake yelped in pain, stumbled back, pushing me away and releasing his grip.

My body crashed into a table and chair, a searing pain shooting through my lower back.

Instinctive tears streamed down my face.

I crawled forward, step by step, carefully looking at Jake's wound.

But he kicked me towards the table.

He gasped for breath, his voice vicious:

"Stop faking it! Weren't you going to die? Why don't you want to die now?"

"Or is it that you, you bastard, just want to torment us, making us feel guilty for the rest of our lives?"

I stared with bewildered eyes, watching him cry and call me "brother" one moment, then glare furiously and call me a "bastard" the next.

I could only try to soothe him cautiously:

"Killing, illegal."