LOGINThe evening was quiet.On that lonely rooftop at the hospital, Nathan Mills sat in a wheelchair, his back bent, his face hollow, as though something vital had been scooped out of him and left him to exist with the empty shell.In his hand, he gripped a glass of whiskey, his fingers trembling slightly with every rise and fall of his breath. The half-empty bottle rested on the tiled ground beside him, tilted as though it, too, had grown weary of standing upright after witnessing too much sorrow in too short a time.His eyes were half-closed, his lips parted slightly, his body sagging into the chair like a man standing at the fragile border between sleep and collapse.The wind brushed past him, cool but sharp, carrying the scent of antiseptic and distant rain. It tugged lightly at his shirt, whispering against his skin as if trying to wake him up from the misery swallowing him whole. For anyone else, the rooftop view would have been breathtaking, the city lights flickering to life one
Jennifer was on her knees, her tears running freely as she shook Nathan Mills’ arm.His body was limp, his face pale, his chest barely moving. “Nathan! Nathan, wake up!” she screamed, panic clawing at her throat and tightening every word that left her mouth.Her wails echoed down the hospital corridor, sharp and uncontrollable, drawing attention like a siren in the quiet space. Within seconds, the door flung open.Helen, Nathan’s secretary, rushed in first, her face stiff with shock, her usual composed demeanor completely gone. Behind her came Marcel, his breath already uneven from running, his eyes scanning the room in alarm.“What happened?” Helen asked, bending quickly beside Nathan, her fingers moving to his wrist to check for a pulse, her movements careful but urgent.“He fainted! He’s not moving!” Jennifer sobbed, clutching Nathan’s hand tightly as though her grip alone could pull him back to consciousness.Marcel didn't waste a second. His voice came out firm, commanding, cut
Even though Jennifer’s face twitched at the sound of Charlotte’s name, she forced herself to stay calm. Her lips stretched into a polished smile, carefully crafted and controlled, while her eyes softened just enough to maintain the illusion she wanted him to believe. Her voice came out smooth, sweet like honey. She refused to allow irritation spoil the moment she had carefully created.“Nathan babe,” she cooed gently, setting the flask neatly on the table as though presenting something precious, “I brought lunch. You should open it.”Nathan didn’t even raise his eyes to meet hers. He remained seated, shoulders slightly slumped, his gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the walls of the office. His voice came out flat, heavy, uninterested. “Not interested.”Helen, who had remained standing near the door, shifted awkwardly. She had seen enough. The tension was clear, and she knew better than to remain in a place where emotions were barely contained.Clearing her throat with a polite cough
Back to work at last, Nathan tried to bury himself in his duties, but misery clung to him like a shadow that refused to fade. It followed him into his office, settled into his chair before he even sat, and lingered in the air like something alive. Every file on his desk, every sound of footsteps in the corridor, every tick of the clock carried her name. Charlotte. It was as if the world had conspired to remind him of her at every turn, refusing him even a moment of escape.Her image wouldn’t leave him. It stayed with him, vivid and unrelenting, pressing into his thoughts no matter how hard he tried to push it away. He sat behind his massive office desk, staring blankly at the screen of his computer. The cursor blinked endlessly on the empty document, waiting for something, anything, but his fingers remained idle on the keyboard. His mind was too far gone to focus on something as ordinary as work.A knock echoed gently on the door, soft but persistent. Nathan didn’t notice. His m
Charlotte hurried down the quiet hallway, clutching a small box wrapped neatly with a bright red ribbon against her chest as though it was something precious she couldn’t afford to drop. Her heart beat faster with every step she took, the excitement clear on her face as a soft smile played on her lips. She'd spent the entire morning putting the gift together, carefully choosing every little detail, imagining the look on Nathan’s face when he saw it. That thought alone had filled her with warmth, pushing her forward with eager anticipation.But just as she reached the top of the staircase, her steps slowed to a halt.Voices drifted up from the living room below, familiar and unmistakable.Her smile faded almost instantly.She stood still, her fingers tightening slightly around the box as she listened. Something in the tone of the voices made her cautious, and instead of continuing down, she moved quietly, her footsteps light, almost soundless, until she stood just out of sight, hid
Charlotte’s eyelids fluttered gently, her chest rising and falling in slow, uncertain breaths. She turned her head slightly on the pillow, and the harsh white light pouring down from the ceiling lamp burned into her eyes. Her left hand felt unusually heavy, weighed down by something unfamiliar. When she tried to move it, a soft tug followed immediately, and her gaze drifted downward sluggishly. A drip tube was connected to her wrist.The room was quiet, eerily so, with only the faint hum of medical equipment.Then a voice came, soft but trembling with emotion.“Charlotte,” Megan whispered, her voice shaking slightly with a mixture of relief and disbelief as she leaned forward quickly, clutching her daughter’s free hand with both of hers as if afraid she might disappear again. “You’re awake.”Charlotte blinked slowly again, forcing her vision to clear as the blurry shapes around her gradually took form. She turned her head weakly toward the familiar face, her eyes settling on Megan
Nathan sat on the cold marble floor of his bedroom, his back bent awkwardly against the couch like a man who had given up trying to hold himself together. His shirt was crumpled, the sleeves rolled up unevenly, and his hair, once always neat was now disheveled, falling into his tired eyes. Empty
He sat there with Charlotte’s phone cradled in both hands, his thumbs hovering over the screen as though he was afraid that one wrong touch might make everything disappear. The room felt unusually quiet, the kind of silence that rang loudly in the ears. Slowly, deliberately, Nathan opened the phot
Charlotte sat behind her desk in the glass-partitioned office section that separated her from the rest of the design team. The space was small but neat, carefully arranged the way she liked it, everything in its place, nothing excessive or unnecessary. She flipped through the file in front of her,
"Hey, wait!" Johnson stepped forward in panic, his hands stretched out as he tried to block Nathan's path. His voice trembled despite his attempt to sound authoritative, cracking slightly on the last syllable. "Nathan, calm down! Okay? You and Celine just got married. If you kill her, you're going







