Chapter 2

The gesture was a dagger, piercing my heart without mercy.

All at once, a dull pain throbbed in my head as the memories I'd buried came crashing in like a tidal wave.

On my eighth birthday, my mom held my hand just like this and made me a promise.

Her fingers were cold, so I held her hand against my cheek, trying to share my warmth with her.

"Be good, Jane. I promise, when I wake up, we'll go buy your birthday cake, okay?" she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath as she lay on the pillow.

I nodded with all my might, and she hooked her pinky around mine.

"Pinky swear—no take-backs for a hundred years. Anyone who breaks a promise is a puppy," she murmured, her lips pale but tugging into a gentle smile.

Then my mom drifted off, and I lay quietly by her side.

It felt like ages had passed. No matter how loudly I called her name or how hard I sobbed, my mom didn't react at all.

I wanted to find my dad, but he'd left three months ago and still hadn't come back.

People dropped me off in some unfamiliar place, where a lady told me my mom had gone to look for my dad.

But why didn't either of them take me with them? I just couldn't understand.

That first week, I'd startle awake in the middle of the night, sure I could hear my mom's voice, telling me it was time for cake.

Over the first month, I snuck the candies hidden under other kids' pillows and slipped them into my mouth, thinking of the sweets my mom used to give me.

After that first year, I just stopped talking completely.

They called me a weirdo because, no matter what they did to hurt me, I wouldn't react at all.

And here I was again, someone else linking their pinky with mine and promising me the world.

But I wasn't falling for it anymore. Promises were just lies wrapped up in sweet words.

Christopher's voice snapped me out of my memories. He called out, "Jane? Why are you crying?"

I reached up, feeling the chill of tears on my cheeks, and caught the unmistakable turmoil shimmering in his gaze.

His concern was so sincere—even the ache in his eyes seemed all too real.

Was all this just because my tears messed with their lab results?

Or maybe it was simply that now I was finally crying like a normal person, and Evelyn's project was finally getting somewhere?

Was it only when I didn't seem like some kind of freak anymore that he would look at me that way?

I looked at Christopher for a long time before suddenly breaking into a wry laugh. I said, "You know, Christopher, my mom used to promise me the same thing."

His expression froze for a split second. It suddenly hit me—he'd only gotten close to me to gather material for Evelyn's research. He knew everything there was to know about me.

In the next instant, he slipped right back into that gentle, reassuring look. He said, "I'm not like her.

"Jane, I'll always be here for you."

I slowly pulled my hand away. I said, "Is that so? But what about that so-called—"

My words were cut off by the sudden ring of his phone. The name "Evelyn" flashed on the screen, stabbing at my eyes like a knife.

Christopher glanced at me, hesitated for a moment, then answered, "Hey? Yeah, I'll be right there."

He hung up and quickly got up. He said, "Jane, something urgent came up. I'll check on you later, alright?"

I watched his back as he rushed out and whispered, "See? You lied to me all over again."

His steps faltered for a moment, but he didn't turn back.

The moment the door clicked shut, I pulled the monitoring bracelet off my wrist.

The blue light flickered a few times before finally going out for good.

Just like that, the last faint glimmer of hope in my heart died too.

The water in the bathtub was freezing, and when I cut my wrist, it almost surprised me—I didn't feel any pain at all.

Slumped in the tub, I watched as the warm water slowly turned pale red.

Maybe that was better anyway. I'd been alone for as long as I could remember. If Heaven really existed, my parents would be waiting for me there.

As everything started going blurry, what popped into my head was the day Christopher first showed up in my life.

That day, I was about to fall off the rooftop, and he gripped my wrist, hanging on for dear life.

Back then, all I knew was that this guy kept popping out of nowhere, constantly buzzing in my ear. He was just annoying—I never even bothered to remember his name.

A piece of rebar tore straight into his arm, blood dripping down both of our hands, but he just wouldn't let go.

I stared at him, totally lost, confusion written all over my face.

With red eyes and a cracked voice, Christopher yelled, "Hold on to me. Jane, just try letting go—I dare you!"

Funny how I never realized it back then: the same guy who fought so hard to drag me out of hell ended up being the one to throw me right back in.

The water kept rising, reaching my chest as I shut my eyes.

Christopher, this time, I really was letting go for good.

Suddenly, the door crashed open. Christopher burst in, shouting, "Jane!"

He dragged me out of the tub, his hands shaking so hard as he clamped down on my wrist, fingers trembling but refusing to let go. Blood streamed between his fingers, splattering onto the tile floor, every drop a vivid streak of red.

Christopher demanded, "Have you lost your mind? Your life is mine to save—and I'm not letting you go." His voice was rough, nearly breaking, his eyes burning red with fury and anguish.

His tears dripped onto my face—Christopher's desperate plea cutting through the numbness.

He choked out, "Jane, I'm begging you—hold on, just for me, if nothing else."

With the last ounce of strength, I pried my eyes open, but the world around me blurred and faded at the edges.

His face glistened with water—I couldn't tell if it was from the tub or if they were tears pouring down his cheeks.

Would he cry for me?

Even for a single moment, did he ever really care?

My hand shook as I reached out, my fingers barely brushing his face. My voice was barely a whisper as I asked, "Christopher, do you even like me?"

I couldn't bring myself to say "love"—for me, that word had always been something I could never let myself hope for.

Even if it was only for the experiment, just being liked a little was enough for me.

Christopher stiffened, his eyes flooded with feelings I just couldn't figure out.

Then he leaned in, gently resting his forehead against mine. His voice was hoarse, but there was no hesitation at all as he murmured, "I like you."

I broke into a tearful smile, even as the tears kept falling. This was more than enough for me.

I closed my eyes, surrendering myself to this beautiful lie, clutching at it like a drowning soul grabbing for one last lifeline.