I didn't understand why Lucas had become like this.
Suspicious, sensitive, petty, and utterly gloomy... It was like he was a neurotic, driven by unmet desires.
There was no transition—on the very day we reunited, he was already trying to restrict my freedom.
"Why?" I asked.
I didn't understand.
Lucas picked up a thin document from the coffee table and rubbed it in his hands.
He lowered his head and spoke.
"I had someone investigate. You appeared in the capital city three months ago."
"In these three months, you've been singing, traveling, dining out, shopping, and even eating with three different men..."
"Is life without me, this burden, so pleasant?"
His voice suddenly became sharp.
He reached up to grab my chin, his eyes full of questions.
"If I hadn't been dying, would you have never come back?"
"Lucas—"
I tried to explain to him.
"I don't want to hear it!"
He took two steps back, his eyes redder than before."I don't want to believe you anymore."
"You said you'd come back for me, you wouldn't leave me, but what happened!"
"When I wasn't there, you were just fine, not even thinking about me. It was just me, trapped."
He kept shaking his head.
"I don't want this. I don't want it. I want you to belong to me... forever, only to me."
"Forever."
He repeated the word.
Like blood pearls, they seeped into my chest, my bones, my limbs, drowning in his affectionate yet fierce gaze.
I trembled, momentarily at a loss for words.
He was not wrong.
If it weren't for the system's request, I would never have come back to reunite with them.
Perhaps, on a clear afternoon, I would have bought a plane ticket to visit.
They might have already gotten married and had children, maybe gained a little weight, perhaps sitting together in a joyful family picnic on the lawn.
I would watch from a distance, take a few photos, and, before they noticed, board the return flight, content.
There is no story that doesn't end.
A person who has already died should no longer disturb the lives of those left behind.
The pain of losing a loved one will eventually fade with time, gradually being forgotten.
I once thought that no one would be unable to live without someone else.
Until Lucas tried to end his life.
Until I saw him as he was now.
Lost, obsessive, walking with an unsteady gait. No matter how clean his shirt was, it couldn't hide the scent of alcohol and smoke clinging to him.
Without me, it seemed like he might really die.
"Don't do this... I... I..."
I shook my head in panic.
But Lucas smiled gently.
"Seraphine, you still want to leave, don't you? You want to leave me, don't you?"
"It's okay. If you want to go, I won't stop you."
He picked up a nearby fruit knife, hovering it over his already bloodied left hand.
He chuckled lowly, his voice like a ghost in the dark.
"Every day you leave me, I'll cut off one of my fingers."
"If you leave for good, and I can't find you, I'll jump off the tallest building. No matter how far you run, you'll know I'm dead."
I watched, horrified, as the knife was about to slice into his bone.
My eyes widened in an instant, and I rushed forward, grabbing the knife and throwing it to the ground, crying out.
"Psychopath!"
My fingertips trembled as I tried to touch his wound, but stopped when I came into contact with his blood. I pleaded with him through my tears.
"Don't do this, Lucas, please..."
"I'm sorry, I know I was wrong, please stop."
