My newlywed husband wants to kill me. He's backing me to the balcony with a knife in his hand.

The blade pierces my heart, and he shoves me off a 20-story building. At the same time, I see the tear streaks on his face.

He says, "Long time no see, my perfect lover."

..........

Liam Slater and I were childhood sweethearts. Even from a young age, we knew we belonged together. There was no other way to explain it—we knew we were each other's perfect lovers.

I would cook and clean for him. I would also knit winter mittens and scarves for him. He would make me warm drinks, prepare anniversary gifts, and always be there for me.

We were both art majors. He specialized in oil painting while I did sketches. We had a common dream—we wanted to become renowned artists. We'd always been on good terms and agreed to marry once we could.

Everything changed when an accident took away Liam's right hand. I distinctly remembered the car's tires repeatedly running over his arm—it was as if the Grim Reaper was taking away a genius' paintbrush.

From then on, Liam changed drastically. He stopped talking to me, and his temper became bad. Sometimes, he would even get physical with me.

He continued painting, though. He did it with his left hand.

I knew I owed him this—if not for me insisting on having that drink that day, if not for that day being my birthday, if not for me making him leave the house before 6:00 pm… None of this would've happened.

Sometimes, he would snap out of his reverie and turn to me. "Is my life going to end soon?"

I would cry and hold him close, saying, "Life will be over for me if you leave. Promise me you won't end your life, okay? I'll always be by your side."

Sometimes, I would notice odd things about him. For instance, his oil paintings became increasingly darker. He would stare at the fruits on the table, seemingly wanting to stab them with his gaze.

For instance, he would wake up in the middle of the night and walk to the balcony. He would stare downstairs for a while before returning to bed.

I could understand him, though. We were going to marry, and I was the only one who could understand him.

The night after I submitted my graduation project, he proposed to me. We lived in a town away from home, and because of his arm, we decided not to have a wedding. We didn't even inform our parents.

Instead, we had a simple ceremony in our rented apartment. I wore a wedding gown and married the love of my life.

However, he didn't pull out a ring from amidst the bouquet—he pulled out a sharp fruit knife. The blade slashed against my skin, making my blood flow.

I heard him repeating, "Why is life so unfair to me? Why?"

This was my wedding night, which I'd dreamed of countless times since childhood. I spent two hours of it lying in a pool of blood as Liam stabbed me over 160 times. Each stab avoided my critical organs.

I begged him to let me go, but he said, "Didn't you say you would always be with me, my darling?"

I tried to flee when he went to the bathroom, but he caught me. He forced me to the balcony while brandishing his knife; I left a vivid trail of blood from the living room to the balcony.

Underneath the moonlight, he stared at my right hand like a starved beast. Ultimately, he swung the blade at me, stabbing me in the heart. Then, he shoved me off the balcony of our apartment, which was on the 20th floor.

At the same time, I saw the tears stream from his eyes. He said, "Goodbye, my perfect lover."

When I woke up again, I found myself lying on the couch at home, still terrified from my experience. Liam came out of the kitchen with a slice of cake, making me jolt in shock.

To my surprise, I found that the stab wounds all over my body had disappeared. I wasn't in pain, either. It was as if nothing had ever happened.

Liam looked at me, gentle as ever. "Are you that stunned by the surprise? Hurry up and eat your cake. You were clamoring about wanting this, remember? I went to line up outside the store early this morning. Happy birthday, my gorgeous Izzy. I hope every day of your future will be as happy as today."

I broke out in a cold sweat when I saw his uninjured arm. It looked like I'd been reborn on the day of Liam's accident. The bloodiness of my past life was still vivid in my mind, and I wanted to flee despite having a high fever. I had to get away from Liam, who was a monster!

He didn't understand what was happening and thought he'd done something wrong to upset me. He followed me out of the residential area, still holding the slice of cake. The faster I ran, the clearer my mind became. Slowly, I stopped.

It was my birthday today and the day of Liam's accident. However, nothing had gone wrong yet. Our initial plan was to head to an art workshop in the afternoon—as long as I didn't ask for that drink and let Liam leave my sight, as long as the tragedy didn't happen, we would still be the same!

The memories of our relationship and our love flashed in my mind. I realized that I still loved him. And so, I decided to change this!

I turned to look at him as he approached me, his forehead covered in sweat. I forced out a smile. "I prepared a surprise for you, too. What do you think?"

He bopped me on the nose tenderly. "You're so playful even now—as expected of my mischievous little thing. If you scare me like this again, I'll… I won't let you have any of my cakes anymore!"

He swiped some of the cream from the cake and fed it to me. It was so sweet that it made me feel a little bitter. It was great that he was still my perfect lover and the outstanding young man I knew him to be.

…

After lunch, I used my birthday wish as an excuse to make him stay with me all day. That way, he wouldn't need to leave the house. We snuggled on the couch as we watched a movie.

As the seconds ticked by, my anxiety levels rose. Once the clock passed 6:00 pm, I sighed in relief.

Liam looked at me oddly. "Why do I feel like you're going to war? Why are you so nervous? Is it because you have to present your dissertation soon? Don't worry, okay? I'm here, and I'll make sure you graduate."

I smiled at him, feeling reassured.

"Oh, right. Do you want something to drink? You mentioned that your favorite coffee shop has released a new flavor. I'll go and buy it for you," Liam said.

My heart leaped to my throat, and I grabbed him anxiously. "No, I don't want it! I don't want coffee today."

When I saw him eyeing me like he thought I was sick, I said coquettishly, "It's a rare day off, and I just want to spend time with you. Don't tell me you don't want that."

He caressed my head dotingly. "What are you talking about, silly? It's your day, so we'll do whatever you want."

We continued like this until 8:00 pm. I figured the fated hour had passed, so I headed to the bathroom to wash up. Then, I heard Liam's phone ring. He answered it, and I vaguely heard him say, "Yes, sir. I'll be right there…"

I called through the glass door, "Are you going out?"

He quickly put on his jacket and scarf. "Our advisor said a renowned artist from abroad has dropped by for a visit—he wants us to bring our graduation projects over. It might help us get opportunities to study abroad! Where's yours? I'll bring it over with mine."

For some reason, I couldn't help feeling anxious. Still, I told myself the fated hour had already passed. Besides, the place where Liam's accident had happened was in the opposite direction of the campus.

I still felt anxious after he left, though. I called him every ten minutes and reminded him to come home earlier. An hour later, when I couldn't reach him anymore, I knew something had happened.

I ignored my wet hair and threw on some clothes before heading to campus. However, I was told that Liam had left an hour ago. I ran along the street, hoping against hope that I could stop the tragedy from happening. I was too late, though.

Amidst the screaming and the streetlights' dim glow, I saw the car repeatedly crushing Liam's arm as it had done in my past life. The goriness of the scene made my blood run cold.

"The driver's a rookie who just got their driving license—they didn't expect something like this to happen. They've offered to pay five million dollars as compensation, so you should settle this privately," a police officer told me as we stood outside the ICU.

I slapped him like a mad woman. "Settle this privately? How can we possibly do that? He's an artist! How do you expect him to ever paint again without his right hand? You haven't just taken his hand away—you've taken his life away! You've taken my life away!"

My best friend, Joey White, grabbed hold of me. "Don't be like this, Izzy. Liam needs to be treated, so we need that money. We can think of something after he's lost his arm, but what are you going to do if he dies? How will you explain this to his parents?"

I was on the brink of a mental breakdown. "Give him my life, then! I don't want him to be like this—I want him to go back to normal! I want him to have his right hand!"

Joey slapped me hard. "Wake up, Isabel Court! The accident has already happened. What else can you do about the situation? Liam's life is now hanging by a thread, and he's waiting for you to make the call to save him. Yet you're here complaining about how this affects you. What's the point of that?"

I collapsed on the floor, allowing the iciness of the tiles to suck away every bit of warmth in my body. In that instant, I felt like a walking zombie waiting for the devil to take me away.

Terror filled me, but Joey kept telling me there was still hope as long as Liam was alive. I slumped against her shoulder and cried my heart out. She didn't understand that all hope was already lost.