Love Countdown Drove Him Crazy

The doctor looked at my report, his expression grave.

“Miss Evans, this illness you have… we’ve never seen anything like it. The mark on your wrist resembles a countdown. We call it a ‘Heartlock Seal.’”

“Its fading is completely synchronized with the decline of your vital signs.”

I raised my wrist. The mark that was once bright red with the number 100 had now faded to a pale pink, showing only the number “5.”

I knew this wasn’t an illness.

It was the timer of my love with Jason Miller.

The longer he loved me, the longer I could live.

Rain poured outside. I took out my phone and dialed Jason’s number.

“Jason, I think I’m dying. Could you come to the hospital…”

On the other end, his voice was impatient.

“Rachel, what trick are you playing now? I’m busy.”

Before he could finish, through the glass window in the hospital corridor, I saw that familiar figure downstairs.

Jason was holding a black umbrella, shielding Emily Brooks entirely within his embrace, letting the rain drench half of his own shoulder.

He leaned down, gently tucking her hair behind her ear. The tenderness in his eyes—I had never seen it before.

The call was cut off.

The number “5” on my wrist flickered once and turned into “4.”

…

I didn’t die in the hospital.

Clinging to my last breath, I went back to the home Jason and I shared.

Three years of marriage, and yet the house was colder than an ice cellar.

At the entrance, beside a pair of women’s heels, a pair of men’s leather shoes lay carelessly tossed.

I recognized them. They were Jason’s.

The lights inside were off, except for a faint glow seeping through the crack of the bedroom door.

I pushed it open.

Jason was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to me, video calling a woman.

His tone was a softness I had never heard from him.

“Emily, go to bed early. I’ll come see you tomorrow.”

The woman’s coquettish voice drifted from the phone.

“Jason, when will you divorce her? I don’t want to wait any longer.”

Jason was silent for a moment, then his voice cooled.

“Don’t start. She’s not in good health.”

It felt like my chest was being sliced apart by a dull knife.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know my health was fragile. He just didn’t realize that his love was my very life.

Leaning against the doorframe, I let out a faint sound.

Jason jerked his head back, panic flashing in his eyes before he quickly hung up the call.

“Why are you back?” He frowned, his tone filled with annoyance.

I looked at him, pointing to the nearly invisible number “4” on my wrist.

“Jason, if you don’t love me anymore, I’m going to die.”

He reacted as though he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world.

“Rachel, we’ve been married for three years. Other than using these pathetic excuses to get my attention, what else can you do?”

His words were like a bucket of ice water poured from head to toe.

My gaze fell on the jacket he had tossed carelessly on the bed.

From its pocket stuck out a jewelry store receipt—an expensive diamond necklace.

It wasn’t for me.

My birthday had already passed a month ago.

I pointed at the receipt, my voice trembling.

“What’s this?”

Jason glanced at it and shoved it back into his pocket.

“A client gift.”

Then, without another look at me, he got up.

“I’m going to the office.”

The door slammed shut with a deafening bang.

The number “4” on my wrist flashed violently and dropped to “3.”

A stabbing, bone-deep pain consumed me. My vision went black, and I lost all consciousness.