After all my pleading, she finally agreed to return to my city. The moment I saw her, every wall I had built inside me crumbled. She looked thinner than before, her face carrying both fragility and defiance. Fate had toyed with us again and again, yet somehow, it still brought us back to each other.
That night became unforgettable. In each other's arms, it felt as though we had reclaimed something long lost. She was careful, shy, yet utterly trusting—and it was then I realized she was still a virgin. It wasn't just a surprise; it felt like a vow gifted by destiny itself. She clung to me tightly, as though placing her entire being in my care. Her trembling, her tears, made me ache with both tenderness and resolve.
The days that followed were simple but precious. We ate together, walked side by side through the night wind, and laughed at the smallest things. She told me more than once that when I was with her, the suffocating panic in her chest eased, as if my presence itself was a charm that could ward off the darkness.
But peace was only an illusion. In the quiet of the night, she would sometimes wake gasping, clutching her chest, whispering in a trembling voice: "It feels like something is sucking the life out of me." Her eyes would fill with terror, as if unseen fingers were wrapped tightly around her heart. All I could do was hold her close, desperate to shield her from shadows I couldn't see.
Then, work pulled me away. I had to leave for several days, and that was when the real horrors began.
At the hot springs, in water barely 1.4 meters deep, she suddenly slipped and went under. If not for someone spotting her in time, she might never have surfaced again. Days later, while racing go-karts, her car inexplicably accelerated at a sharp turn—her seatbelt snapped open with a loud pop, and she was thrown out, left arm covered in bruises. And once, while driving alone, her car surged forward uncontrollably, slamming into a dog that appeared out of nowhere. In that instant, she nearly lost her life.
Even her heart betrayed her while I was gone. Her pulse would spike without warning, soaring to dangerous heights, as if it could explode at any second.
These were no accidents. Each event felt like part of a carefully laid trap, as if some unseen force had been waiting for me to leave—so it could strike her without mercy.
She has survived this long not through luck, but through escaping death by inches, again and again. Yet deep inside, I know: the true battle has only just begun.