The bodyguard slammed my head down with brutal force.
The tile cracked beneath the impact.
A sickening thud echoed through the hall and blood quickly stained the floor.
My chest felt like it was being ripped apart.
But Nathan still wasn’t done.
Again and again.
By the tenth time, my legs were numb. I had no strength left to stay upright.
He casually waved his hand, signaling the bodyguard to retrieve the forgiveness letter from my arms.
After Shakira signed it with a flourish, the bodyguard yanked my hand and pressed my bloody fingerprint onto the paper.
Only then did Nathan’s expression soften.
“If you had just behaved earlier,” he said, looking pleased, “you wouldn’t have had to suffer.”
“Does your leg still hurt? I’ll take you to the hospital.”
He stepped forward to help me, reaching out with a tenderness that made me nauseous.
I slapped his hand away with a bitter smile.
“I don’t need your fake kindness.”
I turned to leave, but my body betrayed me. My knees buckled and I nearly fell down the stairs.
Nathan instinctively reached out to catch me—then stopped mid-motion.
His hand hovered for a moment, then dropped.
“You stay with her,” he told the bodyguard. “Take her to the hospital and keep me updated.”
And just like that, he turned away, wrapped his arm around Shakira and walked into the hotel without looking back.
Cold sweat drenched my forehead.
It took ten minutes just to descend the stairs.
The pain was unbearable.
Then everything went black.
***
In the haze of unconsciousness, I drifted back six years into the past.
Mom and I were homeless, wandering the streets.
We passed by a school gate when a runaway truck sped straight toward us—toward Nathan.
Without thinking, I rushed forward and shoved him out of the way.
He escaped with barely a scratch.
I, on the other hand, suffered multiple fractures in both legs and spent half a year in the hospital.
He visited every single day.
He brought his textbooks, sat by my bed, explained lessons and helped me review.
At night, thinking I was asleep, he’d lean close and whisper softly into my ear:
“Kristine, it looks like I’ll owe you for the rest of my life.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got a lifetime to repay you.”
In the corner of the room where he couldn’t see me, I smiled.
After that, every time it rained, my legs would ache unbearably.
And every single time, he’d drop everything, come to my side, apply heat packs and change my bandages himself.
But now… everything had changed.
***
When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed.
My phone showed a message from Nathan, sent two hours ago.
[Uncle wants you to come home for a visit. We’re getting married soon, so try to control your temper.]
[The family dinner is tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up.]
That was it.
The next day, he sent nothing more.
Until I saw Shakira’s new social media post.
She’d tagged her location: the summit of a bungee jumping site.
The photo showed them holding hands—her ring finger bare, with only a faint sunburn line where the ring had been.
[He said no matter what happens in the future, he’ll always stand in front of me to shield me from pain.
Thank you, Big Brother. Having you in this life is enough.]
Nathan liked the post and replied with a smiling cat emoji.
“There’s nothing I can do about you. I can only spoil my sister. Hope your future brother-in-law won’t mind…”
I remembered the day I turned eighteen.
He asked what I wanted as a gift.
I told him I wanted to go bungee jumping—to feel the thrill of skimming the edge of death, just once, so I could feel alive again.
His face turned cold. Disdainful.
“Bungee jumping? That’s something only people who don’t want to live anymore do,” he said.
“It’s basically like jumping off a building. Who has time for that kind of nonsense?”
When he noticed I was disappointed, he explained—
He was afraid of heights. Always had been.
But apparently, even his deepest fears could be overcome.
Just not for me.
I closed the app, shut off the screen and booked a plane ticket.
Three days later, I’d leave this country behind.
