Doctors worked on my brother for a full day and night before he was finally pulled back from the brink of death.
Even so, he remained in a deep coma. No one could say when—if ever—he would wake up.
I stood beside his hospital bed, staring at his tightly shut eyes, my throat feeling as though it were clogged with sharp thorns.
This was all because of me.
My brother ended up like this because of me.
Randall walked into the room, his voice carrying a trace of apology.
“Your brother’s condition was an accident. I didn’t expect him to do something so extreme.”
My nose stung suddenly, and my nails dug hard into my palm.
“As long as you withdraw the lawsuit,” he said, “I’ll bring in the best specialists. I’ll make sure he wakes up.”
My fingers trembled, a wave of nausea surging so violently it almost burst out of my throat.
What right did Randall have?
What right did he have to stand here, wearing the posture of a benefactor, trying to patch up the hell he himself had created?
Every inch of the pain my brother and I were suffering was the result of his careful calculations.
But he hadn’t always been like this.
Seven years ago, he had been nothing more than a student who dreamed of becoming a lawyer.
To stick to that path, he fought bitterly with his parents, moved out on his own, and rented a tiny apartment in the most remote part of the city.
That same year, my cat was poisoned to death.
I held that small, lifeless body and stood outside the police station for a long time. After that, I went from one law firm to another, knocking on doors, explaining what had happened over and over again, begging for nothing more than an answer.
Every response I got was a rejection.
Every one, except Randall.
After listening to my story, he handed me a tissue, his voice deliberately gentle.
“You’re crying so hard I can barely hear what you’re saying.”
I lowered my head, my voice shaking. “I know cases like this aren’t worth much… but it was still a life.”
He squatted down so we were eye to eye.
“I know. And that’s exactly why someone has to take it.”
I hesitated before asking, “This case… can it really be fought?”
He looked up at me, his gaze unwavering.
“I can’t promise we’ll win. But I promise I’ll do everything I possibly can.”
That lawsuit dragged on for several months.
Randall stayed up all night researching, rewrote the complaint again and again over the smallest details, and even though his bank card had been cut off and he was desperately broke, he still comforted me.
“Don’t worry about the money. Let’s finish what needs to be done first.”
In the end, we won.
The perpetrator didn’t go to prison, but he was fined for intentional property damage and forced to issue a public apology.
The outcome wasn’t perfect, but it was the best ending I could have imagined at the time.
It was only later that I learned—that case had been the very first lawsuit Randall ever won.
On the day the trial ended, he hugged me outside the courthouse. He smiled like a boy, bright and unrestrained, his voice impossible to hold back.
“Tara, did you hear that?”
“He admitted he was wrong.”
“So persistence really does mean something.”
In that moment, I was struck by his kindness, and deeply moved by his almost clumsy devotion to justice.
But seven years had passed.
The boy who once argued fiercely over “just a cat,” who celebrated a single victory by hugging someone and cheering, was gone.
He had become just like those people—willing to use any means necessary as long as he won the case.
I forced myself to grit my teeth and calm down.
I forced all the surging emotions back into the deepest part of my heart.
Because I knew that, right now, I still couldn’t go up against him. The support my senior had arranged for me hadn’t arrived yet.
I heard myself speak in a voice that was almost eerily calm.
“Randall, let’s break up.”
The air went dead silent.
Unable to help myself, I deliberately brought up the nineteen failed attempts at marriage registration.
“Look at us. Every time we try to register our marriage, something goes wrong. Maybe it really is fate telling us we’re not meant to be together.”
When those words left my mouth, my chest hurt so badly I nearly couldn’t straighten up.
Letting go of a seven-year relationship was never easy. My brother and I depended on each other, and before all this, Randall had been my second family.
But I thought breaking up was the wisest way to protect myself.
Wasn’t he deliberately tormenting me under the excuse of “repaying a debt of gratitude,” just to delay the marriage?
Then I would give him his freedom outright. I would let him return to the person he truly wanted to be with.
But the very next second after I finished speaking, he suddenly reached out and pulled me tightly into his arms.
“What nonsense are you talking about?!”
His tone was forceful, domineering, and absurd, as if it had never once crossed his mind that I—who loved him so deeply—would propose a breakup.
I struggled in disgust, but he only held me tighter.
“Don’t use breaking up to provoke me, okay?”
“I’ve already compromised. What more do you want from me?”
“I was just trying to scare you a little. I didn’t expect your brother to jump off the building. I didn’t want this either. Seeing your brother like that hurts me more than anyone.”
“This is my fault. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Trust me. We’ll go register next week. Once we’re married, everything will be perfect, and your brother will be treated properly and recover safely.”
My body was still too familiar with his embrace. For a moment, I couldn’t push him away.
The remnants of love and pain tangled together, leaving me almost unable to breathe.
Just as I struggled to shove him aside, his phone rang.
Almost reflexively, he released me.
The moment he answered the call, his tone changed completely—gentle, patient, even indulgent.
“Mmm, I know.”
“Tara has already agreed to withdraw the lawsuit. Uncle won’t go to prison, so don’t worry.”
My gaze shook violently, my heart feeling as if it had been scooped out in an instant.
I knew who was on the other end of the line.
It was Samantha.
