Chapter 2
I turned to gaze out the window. The scenery outside blurred into streaks, and my thoughts couldn't help but wander back to five years ago, the day I first met Lucas.
He had been covered in blood back then, too, standing straight outside Nina's family gate, taking all the blame for Nina.
Rain mixed with blood ran down his body, pooling into a dark red stain beneath him.
I walked in front of him, umbrella in hand.
"Do you need help?" I asked softly.
Lucas lifted those deep, unreadable eyes, giving me a long, searching look before raising an eyebrow. He said, "If I say I need help, will you actually save me?"
I nodded.
From that day on, I used the points I'd racked up over the years to heal his shattered body, piece by piece.
His muscles and bones were torn apart, and the worst was his lower back and stomach; they were nothing but a bloody mess after all that beating.
The treatment was pure agony, but he never made a sound.
He just locked his gaze on me, body rigid, every muscle taut with wariness.
It wasn't until the very last treatment that he suddenly reached out, grabbed my sleeve, and blurted out, clumsy and raw, "It hurts."
That was the first time he ever let his guard down around me.
After that, he started relying on me more and more.
When nightmares woke him in the middle of the night, he would unconsciously reach out for me in the darkness.
When his wounds ached, he'd quietly lean against my shoulder.
And on stormy nights, he would hold my hand tight, as if I were the only thing anchoring him to this world.
That was when I confidently accepted this mission from the System.
That was to save this hopelessly devoted guy and change his fate, so that he won't die tragically for the heroine.
I really thought I could be the one to save him.
But as time went on, I finally realized that in the world of the lovesick side character, the heroine was always the one he'd put above all else.
Even if he only ever let his guard down around me, even if he spent months planning our wedding, even if he whispered I love you in my ear a thousand times.
But the moment Nina needed him, he would drop everything without a second thought and rush straight to her side.
He protected her like he didn't care if he got hurt, throwing himself into danger no matter the cost.
And every time, he ended up battered and broken all over again, undoing everything I'd worked so hard to fix.
The first time it happened was the day after we got married.
One phone call, and he rushed out the door.
He came back with seven bullet wounds.
Those injuries were too unusual. I couldn't risk taking him to the hospital. All I could do was treat him myself at home, careful not to let anyone find out.
He was covered in blood, his eyes brimming with tears from the pain; he looked so vulnerable and helpless.
He gripped my sleeve tight, his feverish, dazed eyes searching my face, calling out to me again and again, "Honey."
I was supposed to be angry, but with every desperate call, my heart just couldn't stay hard.
The second time was on my birthday.
With everyone watching, he ditched me and leapt off the cruise ship without a second thought, just to save Nina, who accidentally fell into the water.
That day, I stood on the deck and watched a real-life Titanic play out right in front of me.
When I finally found him, he was half-frozen and barely hanging on, gripping our wedding ring so hard it left bloody marks on his hand.
In that moment, I wavered again.