Abandoned in the Deep Sea

Not long after getting married to my husband, he says he wants to teach me how to scuba dive. My leg cramps when I'm practicing alone in the deep sea. However, my husband, a swimming instructor, chooses to save his unattainable love—she's jumped into the sea to commit suicide.

I don't ask him for help. Instead, I allow myself to slowly sink.

In my past life, I stopped my husband from leaving. He saved me with gnashed teeth and allowed his first love, Millie Quirke, to drown. By the time he went to save her, she'd already disappeared in the water.

He comforted me and told me it was okay, that he was glad he'd saved me. However, one night, he brought me back to the seaside.

Just as I let my guard down, he grabbed my neck and plunged my face into the water. Then, he dragged me out before I could suffocate. "You were just cramping—it would've passed! But Millie got dragged away by the current because of you! You can remain in the ocean with her!"

When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day I was scuba diving.

The cold, salty seawater engulfed me, and I knew exactly what was about to happen. I used all my strength to swim toward the surface.

The moment my head broke through the water, a sharp, paralyzing pain shot through my calf, instantly robbing me of all strength. My body started sinking again.

Not far away, Mason Jacobs was speeding toward the shore on a jet ski, racing against time.

The pain in my leg persisted, but I held back the urge to call out for Mason.

While I was on the brink of life and death, a strange sense of calm washed over me. I scanned my surroundings, searching for anything that could save me.

Suddenly, a jet ski surged toward me. On it was Mason's colleague—he had attended our wedding. He was also Mason's best friend, George Madden.

"Help! My leg is cramping!" I shouted.

George circled me on his jet ski, rubbing his chin with a dismissive smirk.

"Come on, Felicity. Don't try to fool me. You don't look like someone with a leg cramp. Are you just trying to stop Mason from saving that person? That's not right. Mason is a coach—it's his job to rescue people. You shouldn't be acting so unreasonable," he said.

My body was growing weaker, and half of my face was sinking into the seawater. While clenching my teeth to endure the pain, I forced my head up and shouted, my voice shrill with panic, "Rescuing people is not just his job—it's yours too! I said I have a cramp, now pull me up!"

He chuckled lightly. "Felicity, stop messing around. Maybe you can fool Mason with this act, but not me. He just asked me to keep an eye on you while you're diving, not to watch you put on a show. It's obvious you never studied properly. Real leg cramps in the water don't look like this."

Tears welled up in my eyes and streamed down my cheeks. No matter what I said, this man refused to believe me.

Yes, I hated how Mason always put Millie Quirke before me. There were times I threw tantrums, refusing to let Mason see her. But I had never faked drowning to deceive anyone.

I had already died once. Was I about to experience the suffocating terror of drowning all over again?

I bit down hard on my lip, and the taste of blood spread through my mouth, jolting my fading consciousness.

Fueled by sheer survival instinct, I reached out and grabbed the edge of the jet ski. I didn't know what I had grabbed, but a sharp metal edge sliced my palm open, blood spilling freely.

Yet, I still refused to let go.

A flicker of panic finally crossed George's face. He scowled, telling me to stop pretending.

Just then, a speedboat appeared behind him. The people on the boat ignored the still-hesitating George and worked together to pull me aboard.

The moment I was lifted out of the water, my body finally relaxed. My calf twitched uncontrollably.

I looked up at the coach helping me and was momentarily stunned. It was the manager of Mason's diving club, John Hart.

John piloted the boat back to shore, helping me sit down before calling for a doctor to treat my wounds.

Maybe it was because I had nearly died, but John couldn't hold back his fury. Right there on the beach, he grabbed George and unleashed a furious tirade, drawing the attention of everyone around.

The bystanders pieced together the story from John's yelling and started showing concern for me.

"Are you okay, miss? Next time, make sure you find a reliable coach! You're lucky to be alive this time."

"This diving club's coaches are so irresponsible, huh? Good thing I didn't choose them. I need to warn my friends to stay away!"

"Someone like that should've been fired ages ago! Watching a student struggle and refusing to help—what kind of monster does that?"

After surviving the ordeal, I finally felt the weight of being alive as I listened to the chatter.

I took a deep breath of fresh air, and suddenly, tears streamed down my face.

Everyone was pointing fingers at George, condemning him. But I knew the person most deserving of blame wasn't him—it was my husband.

We had been together for eight years and were newly married, and yet, he kept risking everything for the unattainable love of his—even at the cost of my life.

All these years of genuine love were wasted on a man who never truly valued me.

John saw me on the verge of breaking down and helped me up. He escorted me to a car and took me to the hospital.

Once I had calmed down, he handed me my clothes and phone, asking if I wanted to call my family.

Family? Could Mason still be considered my family?

I shook my head and refused.

Just then, my phone rang. It was Mason, calling me first.