Hailie, still at the top of the stairs, was a picture of terrified innocence, her voice trembling as she pointed at me. "She... she just snapped! She said I was a parasite, and she tried to push me! She wanted to ruin my debut!" She clutched her arm, a red mark appearing on her pale skin where she had obviously pinched herself. "She even tried to grab my painting, the one Amir just bought me!"
Amir was already halfway up the stairs, his face a mask of incandescent rage. He didn' t even glance at my crumpled form, my head bleeding onto the pristine marble. His eyes were fixed on Hailie, full of concern.
"Hailie, darling. Are you alright?" He reached her, wrapping an arm around her, shielding her from me.
"She called me a parasite," Hailie whimpered into his shoulder. "She said I was stealing from you, and she tried to hurt me! I just... I just pushed her away."
Amir turned his furious gaze on me, lying at the bottom of the stairs, my vision swimming. "Blake! What is wrong with you?" he roared, his voice echoing through the silent corridor. "Are you really so petty, so consumed by jealousy? To attack a young woman, on her big night, over a painting?" He gestured towards the painting Hailie was still clutching, an ironic symbol of her manufactured victimhood. "Have you no decency? No respect for her talent? For Keon's memory?"
I tried to speak, to explain, but my throat was tight, choked with blood and disbelief. A metallic taste filled my mouth. "Amir... she..."
Hailie, sensing my struggle, quickly cut me off. "She was just so angry, Amir. I think she's... she's not well. She's been so distant since Keon..." She let her voice trail off, a masterstroke of manipulation.
Amir didn't hesitate. He gently lifted Hailie, cradling her in his arms as if she were made of glass. "Come on, my love. We're going to the hospital. You're clearly in shock." He glanced down at me, a flicker of contempt in his eyes. "Someone call a medic for her," he tossed over his shoulder, his voice dismissive. "She can take care of herself."
Hailie, nestled safely in his arms, looked over his shoulder at me, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips. "Be careful, Blake," she purred, her voice sweet and fake. "Wouldn't want you to fall again."
Amir didn't look back. He just carried her away, his entire focus on his new "muse." He walked right past me, his expensive shoes nearly brushing my outstretched hand, the hem of his tailored suit jacket sweeping over the stark red stain spreading on the marble. He didn't see me. He didn't care.
I lay there, on the cold, hard floor, the ornate ceiling far above me, spinning. My head throbbed. The pain was excruciating, but it was nothing compared to the crushing weight in my chest. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part. His vows, once so sacred, now echoed in my mind, a mockery. The "till death do us part" had an expiry date. And I was long past it.
My world was shrinking, suffocating. I tried to call for help, but only a raspy whisper escaped my lips. The pain, the betrayal, the chilling indifference of the man who once promised me everything-it was too much. The darkness crept in, a welcome oblivion. I closed my eyes, silently begging for it to take me too.
