Chapter 3

Zoe sat quietly in the hospital corridor, her hand resting lightly on her stomach. Her eyes stung with tears she tried not to shed.

In her past life, during the years she was hopelessly in love with Dylan, she had imagined countless times what it would be like to walk down the aisle with him.

Later, after their son was born, she often felt guilty—guilty for not giving him a home filled with love.

But even after years of raising him, her son grew up to be just like his father—cold, distant, and in the end, he too turned into a knife that cut straight into her heart.

This time, she wouldn’t give him the chance to be born.

Just then, a sweet, overly familiar voice broke through the quiet hallway.

“Oh come on, Dylan! You’re totally overreacting. It’s just a little burn from the steam, that’s all. The doctor said I could’ve just rinsed it with cold water at home, but you dragged me all the way here. Now everyone’s looking at me like I’m ridiculous.”

Zoe looked up instinctively, her whole body tensing.

Jenny and Dylan were walking down the hallway, hand in hand. Their fingers were tightly laced together, their bodies close, their affection unmistakable.

Dylan leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips, his gaze soft and full of warmth.

“This hospital belongs to my family. Let them laugh—I couldn’t care less,” he said softly. “Besides, I worked hard to get your hands this soft and pretty. Even a tiny scratch makes me worry.”

Jenny’s cheeks flushed pink. She playfully swatted his chest. “We’re in public—at a hospital, no less. Can you not?”

Dylan caught her hand and kissed it, his smile deep and full of charm. “You have no idea how much I’m holding back.”

Zoe watched the smile on his face, stunned for a moment—then the pain hit her like a blade.

In her past life, Dylan hadn’t smiled once after Jenny died.

He had fallen into a deep depression, wasting away day by day until he gave up entirely.

The man who had once been bright and proud had become a hollow shell of himself.

To stop him from taking his own life, the family had sealed every window in the house. No sharp objects, no medication, nothing remotely dangerous was allowed near him. The place was more prison than home.

But even so, Dylan managed to file down a toothbrush into a sharp point, planning to stab himself in the heart.

Zoe had caught him just in time.

In a panic, she tried to stop him, reaching out blindly. But in that crucial moment, Dylan threw out his hand to shield her instead.

The sharpened toothbrush went straight through his palm. Blood poured everywhere.

But he didn’t even flinch. He didn’t seem to feel pain at all. Instead, he broke down completely, shouting through his tears:

“Why?! Why won’t you just let me die?! Jenny’s down there all alone—I need to be with her! Get out of my way!”

Zoe had sobbed as she begged him, “Dylan, please, wake up! Jenny’s been gone for years. Can’t you let yourself go? Just once?”

Dylan had gone quiet.

After a long pause, his red-rimmed eyes stared at her, empty and bitter.

“You’re the one who won’t let me go.”

His hand never fully recovered after that. It was permanently damaged, unable to carry anything heavy again.

But strangely, after that day, he seemed to return to normal and started living his life again.

At first, Mr. and Mrs. Xander thought it was just a fleeting phase, a final burst of energy before a deeper collapse, so they watched him even more closely.

But half a year passed, and Dylan began acting like he had truly stepped out of the darkness. He smiled again. He worked. He seemed healed.

Eventually, his parents relaxed.

When he said he wanted to take a trip to the ocean, they even helped plan a cruise.

They never imagined what would happen next.

As the ship was swallowed by the rising waves, Zoe had watched Dylan break free of her grip with everything he had and that was when it finally hit her.

He had never healed.

He had spent six full months pretending—calmly, methodically planning the perfect opportunity to die.

Even if the tsunami hadn’t hit, he still would have jumped from the deck that day.

In the end, Dylan and Jenny became a tragic fairytale—one buried in the clouds, the other lost to the sea.

And Zoe? She was the bitter punchline of a cruel joke.

She fell into a spiral of guilt and heartbreak that never ended.

Dylan’s hand had already been crippled—so how had he still managed to break free from her grip?

In the end, she was the one who killed him.