005

***

Two weeks later.

When Lovett Larson opened her eyes, she was greeted by a blinding white light.

She squinted and blinked repeatedly until her vision adjusted. White walls. White curtains. White sheets.

A fragile happiness bloomed in her chest.

Heaven.

She must have made it.

Her grandfather… her mother… they would all be here.

Tears welled in her eyes.

“You’re awake.”

The voice shattered her fragile illusion.

Lovett turned her head slowly and saw a man approaching, a stethoscope hanging loosely around his neck. He placed a hand gently on her forehead, checking her temperature.

Her gaze followed his every movement.

Is this God? she wondered weakly.

“Can you hear me?” he asked calmly.

She nodded.

“Can you see me clearly?”

She nodded again.

He released a quiet breath of relief.

Lovett frowned.

Her throat felt dry, glued shut. It took effort to swallow before she could speak.

“Who… are you?” Her voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

The man hesitated. “You’ve been unconscious for two weeks—”

“Wait,” Lovett cut in abruptly, panic rising. “Did you… rescue me?”

He studied her briefly before nodding. “Yes.”

Her breath hitched.

“So I’m… alive?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

The tear that slipped from her eye burned.

In the next second, she pushed herself off the bed and lunged at him, fists and nails striking blindly.

“Why?!” she screamed. “Why did you save me?! Who gave you the right?! I didn’t ask you—!”

Her legs gave out mid-struggle.

The man caught her swiftly, wrapping an arm around her waist before she hit the floor.

Lovett sobbed violently in his arms, her strength draining completely.

Lucas endured the scratches, the torn shirt, the pain—saying nothing.

Minutes later, her body went slack.

She had fainted.

He lifted her gently and laid her back on the bed, tucking the sheets around her.

Against his better judgment, his fingers brushed her cheek.

She looked peaceful now—so different from moments ago.

Only heaven knows what she’s been through, he thought grimly.

At that moment, Lucas made a silent vow.

He would protect her.

As he left the guest room, Lovett murmured in her sleep, “You should’ve let me die…”

______

Some time later, Lucas returned to check on her.

She was crying again—silent, broken sobs that wracked her small frame.

At this rate, she really would waste away.

He stood still for a moment before walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I lost my family in a car accident,” he said quietly. “My wife. My two children. I was the only survivor.”

Lovett stilled.

“I wanted to die,” he continued, his voice heavy. “I tried seven times. Seven.”

Her tears slowly stopped.

“My mother fell seriously ill because of me. If I’d succeeded… I would’ve killed her too. Would my wife have wanted that? Would your loved ones?”

He rose to his feet. “Ask yourself—what will your death change? Who benefits? Think about it.”

With that, he left the room.

Lovett lay awake long after.

What would her death have changed?

Nothing.

The wicked would continue to live comfortably. Her enemies would enjoy her grandfather’s wealth. Her marriage would still be ruined.

She would die for nothing.

And her father…

She inhaled deeply and began to sob.

The stranger was right. She needed to live.

She had to.

Lovett wiped her face and went to the bathroom. The hot water washed over her, carrying away the blood, the pain, the despair.

When she emerged, dressed in clean clothes she found in the wardrobe, she stepped out of the room for the first time in two weeks.

At the end of the hallway, she saw Lucas setting the dining table for two.

Did he know I was going to come out?

She shuffled over and sat quietly.

They ate in silence.

The apartment was simple. Minimalistic.

Her heart twisted as she remembered the man's tragic story.

“You live alone?” she asked softly.

Lucas nodded.

“Your mother?”

“She lives in the States.”

“Ah, I see.”

Suddenly, nausea hit her.

She rushed to the bathroom, retching—but nothing came out.

Lucas helped her back to the table.

After a moment, he looked at her intently.

“Do you know?” he asked.

Huh? Know what?

“You’re two weeks gone.”

Gone? Where?

From home?

She frowned, shaking her head.

“You don’t understand,” he said gently.

She shook her head again.

“You’re pregnant.”