"Gideon, save me!"
Ivy crawled to Gideon’s feet, her tear-streaked face tilted up at him, eyes filled with desperation.
"Sylvie accused me of orchestrating today’s attack!" she cried, her voice trembling. "She said the man in black was my ex-boyfriend and that I told him to do it!"
She clutched at Gideon’s pant leg, her entire body shaking.
"But I swear—I didn’t! My ex-boyfriend has been threatening to kill me! That’s why I ran away from him!" Ivy sobbed harder. "I had no idea he would show up today! I didn’t know any of this would happen!"
Her voice grew smaller, more pitiful.
"But Sylvie threatened to call the police and throw me out…" She clung to Gideon’s arm. "Please, Gideon, help me! I’m terrified! If you make me leave, I don’t know what my crazy ex-boyfriend will do to me!"
Gideon’s gaze flickered between the two women—Ivy, crumpled on the floor, drowning in tears, and Sylvie, standing frozen, her face drained of all color.
After a long silence, he exhaled sharply.
"Sylvie, let it go," he said at last. "This isn’t fully settled yet. Just be more careful next time."
Sylvie’s breath caught.
"What?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Forget it?" Her chest tightened, her fingers curling into fists. "She just admitted to sending that man after me! She wanted me—" her voice broke, "—she wanted me to be violated!"
Gideon’s jaw tightened. "Didn’t Ivy explain? She’s a victim too. And you already slapped her—shouldn’t that be enough?"
Sylvie’s body went cold.
She watched in stunned silence as Gideon bent down, gently helping Ivy to her feet, his movements careful, protective. Without another word, he led her into the house.
Sylvie stared at their retreating figures, laughter suddenly bubbling from her lips.
But it wasn’t amusement.
It was disbelief.
It was bitterness, clawing its way up from the depths of her chest.
Her vision blurred as memories came rushing back.
Years ago, fresh out of college, Sylvie had barely earned enough to get by. She and Gideon had scraped together their wages to rent a tiny, windowless basement in New York for $200 a month.
One night, a torrential downpour slammed against the city.
Sylvie and Gideon lay squeezed together on a narrow bed, the only space they could afford.
Half-asleep, she felt something splash against her cheek.
Frowning, she opened her eyes to water dripping from the ceiling.
And it was dripping directly onto Gideon’s side of the bed.
That night, Sylvie had shaken Gideon awake, insisting they switch sides on the bed. The ceiling leaked, and she refused to let him sleep under the dripping water.
"If you don’t move, I’ll break up with you!" she had threatened, arms crossed, lips pursed.
Gideon had only rolled his eyes, grabbed his pillow, and swapped places with her.
"You’re so dramatic," he muttered, but there was a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Sylvie had hugged his arm, snuggling close.
"This is what it means to go through hard times together," she had whispered before drifting off to sleep.
That same man, the one she had trusted with her whole heart, now refused to believe her.
Just a simple "forget it"—and everything was supposed to be over?
Sylvie stood frozen, watching as Gideon carefully rolled an egg over Ivy’s bruised cheek. His touch was gentle, filled with concern.
Her nails dug into her palms, her breath unsteady. The bitterness swelling in her chest finally spilled out.
"Gideon… am I really so untrustworthy to you?"
Gideon didn’t even glance up.
"Sylvie, why are you still holding onto this?" he sighed, his voice tinged with impatience. "Ivy is a girl—it’s not easy for her. If we don’t help her, who will? You’re being unreasonable."
Sylvie parted her lips as if to argue, but she stopped herself.
A bitter smile flickered across her face.
She said nothing.
Turning away, she walked back to the room, each step heavier than the last.
That night, she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her vision blurred by the tears that silently soaked her pillow.
The next morning, Gideon took the initiative to invite her for a walk.
Sylvie stood still, staring at him—the man she once knew, yet now felt like a stranger.
Gideon approached with a smile, reaching out to hold her hand as if nothing had happened.
They had barely reached the entrance of the scenic area when his phone rang.
"Sylvie," he said, already turning away. "A fellow practitioner just asked for help sorting out some scriptures. I’ll go assist him first. You go ahead, I’ll catch up later."
Without waiting for her reply, he walked off, his figure blending into the crowd.
Sylvie stood motionless, watching his retreating back.
She let out a soft, bitter laugh, then lowered her head and stepped into the scenic area alone.
The Scottish Highlands landscape remained breathtaking, unchanged.
But the people beside her were no longer the same.
