Yaron didn’t press further when he saw the impatience in my eyes.

For a moment, the living room was eerily silent.

It was a long while before he finally spoke again.

“Megan, let’s get married.”

I froze, staring at him in disbelief. “Did I hit your head too hard last time?”

“No!” Yaron quickly denied it, cautiously stepping closer. “Megan, you know I’ve always had a bad temper. I did a lot of things that hurt you over the years.”

He exhaled sharply, his voice laced with desperation.

“But I know I was wrong.”

His gaze softened as he took my hand gently, his eyes brimming with emotion. “I didn’t just come here to apologize. I want us to move past all of this.

“I know you love me. I know I still matter to you. So let’s stop fighting, okay? Let’s start over.”

I had no idea why Yaron was suddenly acting like this. Instinctively, I pulled my hand away and replied indifferently, “It’s fine. It’s all in the past.”

At those words, something shifted in his expression. The dull haze in his eyes lifted, replaced by a flicker of hope—burning, desperate.

“Really?” he asked eagerly.

“Megan… I knew it. I knew you loved me too much to stay mad at me.” His voice trembled slightly, thick with emotion. “I’ll treat you better. I swear… I’ll marry you.”

I had no idea what kind of show he was putting on, but my patience had completely worn thin.

So I smiled and nodded. “Let’s talk about the future later. I still have packing to do. How about you come to find me after I move to the south side?”

Yaron agreed without hesitation, glancing at my luggage before adding, “There’s nothing urgent at the company tomorrow. I’ll come over at noon to help you move.

“We can check out wedding dresses in the afternoon. I even asked a friend to design a custom wedding ring for us…”

His endless chatter was giving me a headache. I quickly cut him off. “Yaron, let’s focus on moving first.

“I’ve been busy all day. I’m exhausted.”

He hesitated for a moment, as though searching for the right words, but eventually fell silent. “Right. We have all the time in the world.”

Then, he stepped forward with quiet determination and—without warning—pulled me into his arms. His breath was warm against my neck as he murmured, “I’m sorry, Megan. I’ll never hurt you again.”

I said nothing, silently pushing him away.

As he left, he kept glancing back at me, hesitating, as if he had more to say. In the end, all he did was remind me, “Don’t overwork yourself. Wait for me tomorrow. I’ll help you move.”

I smiled and nodded, but the moment the door shut behind him, my smile disappeared entirely.

…

The next morning, I drove straight to the airport.

On the way, Yaron sent me several messages, asking if I was awake yet.

By the time I checked in my luggage and was about to board, my phone rang.

I glanced at the screen before answering.

“Megan, I’m on my way to pick you up. I even had my assistant call a moving company—”

Before he could finish, an airport announcement echoed through the terminal.

Silence filled the other end of the line. Then, his voice turned frantic, raw with panic. “Where are you going?!”

I rose from my seat and walked toward the boarding gate. “That’s none of your business.”

“Megan!”

His heart-wrenching roar rang in my ears, but I felt nothing.

My heart remained as calm as still water.

“Yaron,” I said, my voice steady, “you will always owe me in this lifetime. If you really feel sorry, then spend the rest of your days living with that guilt.”

“W-What do you mean?”

I paused, lifting my gaze to the distance.

Then, in a voice as calm as the dawn, I said, “The person who donated the kidney that saved your life back then… was me.”

On the other end, there was nothing but a long, suffocating silence.

I ended the call, deleted and blocked his new number again.

Then, without looking back, I stepped forward.

Forward, toward a better life.