His Mistake, My Freedom

Sera’s P.O.V

When being trailed by the murderer, I called Mark Simpson.

He answered impatiently, “I already told you I’m working late tonight. What do you want now?”

The person behind me continued to follow relentlessly, forcing me into a dead end.

My heart pounded like a drum, and my voice trembled. “Help me, I’m being followed by a murderer. He’s holding a knife…”

“There’s no murderer. Stop imagining things!” Mark’s tone was annoyed. “You always call me at night. Can’t you just let me work in peace? Will this ever end?”

I humbly tried to explain, “It’s true. I’m not lying…”

Suddenly, a sweet, flirtatious female voice came through the receiver. “Marky-boo, does this lingerie look good on me?”

Hearing Angela Bright’s voice, I froze. Before I could question anything, Mark immediately hung up the phone.

My heart sank, and the murderer’s footsteps grew closer. The instinct to survive overcame my fear. I clenched my fists tightly and then threw my phone at him with all my strength, forcing him to take a step back.

The murderer let out a pained yell and lunged at me with the knife. “I’m gonna kill you!”

The knife plunged into my belly, and unbearable pain engulfed my entire body. I curled up on the ground, cold sweat soaking me. Seeing me down, the man turned to leave.

Suddenly, sirens wailed, and police officers rushed in. The serial killer was finally caught.

During my days in the hospital, Mark never once came to visit.

When he finally called, his tone was indifferent.

“Sera, are you done with your drama yet? I told you I’ve been busy lately. Stop making up excuses to get me to come see you. I have work to do! All this nonsense about murderers and critical injuries… If you really met a killer, would you still be alive?”

I quietly watched as moments from Angela’s social media played out. He said he was busy—busy taking Angela to the aquarium, busy attending concerts with her.

Angela’s frequent updates filled my feed with captions such as “No matter what I want to do, you’re always by my side. Mark spoils me so much!”

I forced a bitter smile as my heart sank further.

On the day I was discharged, Mark suddenly came to pick me up. His face was emotionless, but faint marks on his neck revealed what he had been up to. I took a deep breath, pretending not to see.

His voice was cold and hard. “I thought you were seriously hurt, but you’re still alive, aren’t you?”

Somewhere along the line, Mark had grown this heartless toward me.

“I thought you were joking about the murderer. I just saw the news.” He seemed slightly apologetic. “But the injury shouldn’t be too bad, right?”

What a joke.

It had been two weeks since the incident. When I lay on the hospital bed, paralyzed and helpless, he hadn’t even spared me a glance. Now, this sudden display of concern only disgusted me.

“Alright, it’s nothing serious. Why are you still upset?” He tried to hold my hand, but I pulled away.

As I got into the car, I noticed a piece of lingerie on the passenger seat and froze.

Mark reflexively blocked my view and explained awkwardly, “Angela must’ve left it here by accident.” He spoke dismissively, as though it didn’t matter.

Nonetheless, I had no intention of questioning him. Silently, I sat in the back seat.

Halfway through the drive, he received a call. His expression changed instantly. “Angela, what happened? Don’t cry… Alright, I’m coming right now!”