Chapter 7

When passersby rushed Asher to the hospital, he had already lost too much blood. The doctors said ten minutes later, and not even a god could have saved him. My mother stood outside the emergency room, looking at the "Critical Condition" sign, and suddenly laughed, tears streaming down her face: "He's atoning, and he's seeking death." I knew why he did it. Those recordings were like knives, not only exposing Olivia's deception but also laying bare his own soul. He finally understood he wasn't a blinded victim but an accomplice, the executioner who personally pushed me into the abyss. He lay in the ICU for seven days and nights. I floated outside the ICU glass, watching Asher's fingers twitch. The monitor's waves suddenly stabilized, like the sea after a storm, yet more unsettling than ever. The nurses said it was a sign of improvement, but I knew for him, living might be harder than dying. The day he woke up, sunlight streamed through the blinds, cutting stripes on the sheets.