"Neville, I had a little too much to drink tonight. Can you come pick me up?"

Neville said something in a low voice, but I couldn't make it out.

By the time he walked back into the room, he was fully dressed.

"Cat, something came up at work. Go ahead and sleep."

The excuse was pathetic.

Ever since the System bankrupted him, nearly every door had been slammed in Neville's face. To make money, he'd had no choice but to take a construction diver job doing manual labor on-site. That kind of work only required twelve hours during the day. No overtime. On top of that, I needed to be turned over every two hours at night, so Neville had never once gone out after dark.

By the time I came back to my senses, I had no idea how long he'd been gone.

I pulled the knife from under my pillow.

It was a System-issued product, after all. The blade looked razor-sharp. It should slice through my artery in no time.

When I'd had my car accident, I woke up to a diagnosis of spinal cord injury. I couldn't move anything except my head and my hands. After three years of rehab, I could barely sit up on my own and manage a wheelchair by myself.

I'd been planning to surprise Neville on his birthday with that progress. Now it didn't matter anymore.

Dying in bed would be messy. Neville would probably have to clean up for a long time.

I forced myself upright and into the wheelchair, then rolled into the bathroom.

I took out the knife, pressed it against my wrist, and cut.

The bathroom light flicked on, illuminating Neville's ashen face.

"Catherine, what are you doing?"

Before I could react, the knife was wrenched from my hand.

The next second, Neville's palm cracked hard across my face.

"You're insane! What did I ever do to you for you to do this to me?"

His voice was sharp as a blade, but his eyes were bloodshot.

He flew into a rage, smashing everything in the bathroom to pieces. When the fury finally drained out of him, he came to stand in front of me. He crouched down and looked into my eyes.

"Why?"

There was perfume on him. The exact same scent Polly had been wearing when she visited me earlier that day.

I thought about it for a moment, then spoke. "Did you go see Polly?"

Neville froze. After a long silence, he admitted it. "Is that what this is about?"

"Catherine, can you stop being jealous over nothing? I already told you there's nothing between us. I went to see her because—"

"Neville." I cut him off. "Just let me die. I want it to be over."

His face went rigid.

A few seconds passed. Then he said okay.

Just when I thought he agreed that this life was a kind of torture, he suddenly grabbed the knife off the floor, shoved it back into my hand, and pressed my grip against his chest, right over his heart.

"You want to die? I'll grant your wish. But only if you kill me first."

I was terrified. I tried to pull my hand back.

"Neville, let go."

"You're not the only one suffering, Catherine. You think taking care of you isn't hard on me?" His strength was frightening. I could feel the blade's tip breaking through his skin. "You want to die? Fine. We die together."

Something warm and wet soaked my hand.

My entire heart felt like it was being crushed in a fist.

Seconds later, I broke down sobbing. "I was wrong, Neville. I won't do it. I won't die. I won't."

The knife clattered to the floor. Blood seeped through the front of Neville's shirt.

A few minutes later, he seemed to regain his composure. He reached out and stroked my hair, and then, completely out of nowhere, said, "Cat, will you stay with me for one more birthday?"

Neville's birthday was three days away.

After that night, he gathered up every sharp object in the house. Even the plates and bowls were swapped out for plastic ones.

He still took care of me, same as before. But he rarely spoke to me anymore. Most of the time, he just sat there scrolling through his phone, typing away at conversations I wasn't part of.

He still went to work during the day and stayed with me at night.

The difference was that before, he'd actually been going to work. Now, he was spending his days with Polly.

Polly's social media had been updated constantly over the past few days. There were posts of Neville picking her up after work, the two of them at an amusement park, and photos of them checking in at a couples' restaurant.

In the pictures, the corners of Neville's mouth curved upward, showing those familiar little canines of his.

I stared at those photos for a long time, because I could no longer remember what Neville looked like when he smiled at me.

The night before his birthday, Neville came home very late.

He'd had too much to drink, and Polly had brought him back.

The bedroom door was open, so I could see everything happening in the living room.

I watched Polly help him out of his jacket and carefully wipe his face with a warm towel.

Neville kept mumbling, "Nobody better bully my Polly. I can drink for her."

Polly laughed softly. "Okay, okay. Polly's drinks are all yours. And so is Polly."

Neville murmured something in reply, too low for me to hear.

It must have been something sweet, because Polly smiled so happily.

After getting Neville settled, Polly actually came into my room.

She saw that I was awake and froze for a moment, then glanced back at Neville on the couch. She understood instantly that I'd seen everything.

"Cat, don't get the wrong idea. I have a competition tomorrow. You know how the people in the company are—they love throwing these pep-rally parties before a show. Neville was worried I'd be off my game tomorrow, so he took my drinks for me."

Polly and I had been friends since childhood.

We'd learned ballet together, gotten into the same dance academy, and after graduation, joined the same company.

I knew which competition she was talking about. It was the biggest ballet competition in the country. Place well, and you'd secure the position of principal dancer. If you were lucky, you might even get scouted by a top international company.

If not for the accident three years ago, I would have been on that stage this year too.

Polly seemed completely oblivious to the fact that she'd just ripped open an old wound.

She turned off the light and lay down on the cot where Neville usually slept.

"Cat, Neville drank too much tonight, so let me take care of you instead. If you need anything, just call for me."

I murmured a quiet acknowledgment.

I thought the night would simply pass like that. Then Polly spoke again.

"Catherine. Have you ever thought about dying?"

My breath caught.

Polly continued. "You know, right? Neville was supposed to be with me. If he were with me, he'd be incredibly successful—rich, everything going his way. He wouldn't have to live the way he does now."

"Do you know what he does on those job sites? He's a construction diver."

My heart lurched.

A construction diver. One of the most dangerous jobs in the world. The work meant descending into deep shafts to retrieve dropped drill bits, except the shafts weren't filled with water—they were filled with mud. The only thing keeping them alive was a single oxygen line.

One wrong move, or one person with bad intentions, and they'd never come back up.

When I didn't respond, Polly's voice turned sharp.

"Catherine, do you understand? Neville told me he loves me, but because of you, he can't be with me. So could you just go ahead and die? Stop clinging to him."

The System had told me the same thing.

Even though I'd heard it before, the pain tore through my chest all over again.

I knew how exhausted Neville was, taking care of me.

I knew Neville would be so much better off without me.

Most importantly, I knew Neville didn't love me anymore.

So when Polly said she could get me sleeping pills, I nodded through my tears.

The next morning, Polly tucked a full bottle of sleeping pills under my pillow and slipped out before Neville woke up.

Half an hour later, Neville woke up.

He came in to check on me first, but didn't explain why he'd been drunk the night before. Instead, he told me he'd be home late again today.

"It's your birthday," I couldn't help reminding him. A selfish little hope crept in. "Neville, could you stay home with me today? Just for the day?"

He froze for a few seconds, then opened his mouth. "The site today..."

"Just one day." My voice came out smaller than I intended. "I only need today. You can take a day off, can't you? Neville, it's been so long since we..."

"Catherine, grow up." He cut me off. "You think I run the site? That I can just take off whenever I want?"

Maybe he noticed my face fall, because he added, softer, "Cat, just today. I promise I'll be home early."

After Neville left, my caretaker arrived.

I told her that Neville would be taking the day off and she didn't need to look after me. I gave her the day off, full pay.

She left happily.

Once she was gone, I got myself out of bed and baked a birthday cake.

The first birthday we'd spent together, I'd made him a cake from scratch.

He told me it was the best cake he'd ever had, because in his original world he'd been an orphan. No one had ever baked him a cake before.

My heart had broken for him that day. I promised I'd make him one every year.

It had been a long time. My arms ached with the effort, and the result was lopsided and ugly.

When it was done, I opened the closet and found my ballet costume.

It was what I'd been wearing the first time Neville and I met. He told me I was the most beautiful swan he'd ever seen.

I changed into it, then wheeled myself back to the bedroom and turned on the TV.

The screen showed the live broadcast of the competition Polly was in.

No surprise. Polly was the champion.

On the screen, she stood beneath the spotlight, trophy in her arms, her smile radiant.

"Thank you all. This award means the world to me." She drew a deep breath, her gaze drifting to the audience below the stage. "But today, I'd like to take this moment to say something to someone special."

My heart clenched.

"Neville." Polly's voice turned soft, intimate. "I'm standing here because of you. I won this championship so I could tell you how I feel. I like you. If you feel the same, please come up here."

The camera cut away.

Neville stood in the crowd, a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

The people around him were cheering, laughing, pushing him forward.

"Go! Go up!"

Something flickered in Neville's eyes. Hesitation. But he moved.

At the same time, I twisted open the cap of the pill bottle.

First step. He looked down at the flowers in his hands, almost shy.

I took out one pill, placed it on my tongue, and swallowed it dry.

Second step. He lifted his head, his gaze turning resolute.

I swallowed the second pill with a sip of water. Bitterness bloomed across my tongue.

Third step.

Third pill.

Neville walked exactly ninety-nine steps to reach Polly. I took ninety-nine pills.

My vision began to blur. I couldn't tell if it was the medication or the tears.

"Kiss her! Kiss her!"

The crowd below the stage started chanting, louder and louder, more and more in unison.

Neville looked down at Polly. Polly gazed up at him, her eyes brimming with expectation, almost overflowing.

He reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist.

I tipped the last pill into my palm.

The moment Neville leaned in to kiss her, I pushed the pill past my lips.

I closed my eyes.

The bottle slipped from my fingers and rolled across the floor.

On the television, the roar of the crowd was deafening.

But I couldn't hear any of it anymore.

...

Neville never did close that kiss.

The instant before their lips met, a sharp pang seized his chest, and my face flashed through his mind.

He shoved Polly away. Muttered an apology. Then walked off the stage while stunned voices erupted behind him.

He called for the System as he walked.

"System, I stayed by Polly's side and helped her win the championship. You said you'd restore my wife's health. It's time."

The System didn't answer. Neville didn't dwell on it. His only thought was getting home.

Two months ago, the System had come to him out of nowhere, as if it had finally caved. It told him that as long as he stayed by the designated female lead's side and helped her win the championship, it would restore his life with Catherine to the way it had been before.

Neville couldn't bear to watch the woman he loved suffer any longer. He agreed without a second thought.

For two months, his days belonged to Polly: rehearsals, shielding her from pushy sponsors, navigating the exhausting carousel of industry events. His nights belonged to Catherine.

Every time he looked into those dimmed eyes of hers, he wanted to tell her. Hold on a little longer. Soon you'll be able to stand again.

But he couldn't say a word.

The System had warned him: one syllable leaked, and the deal was off.

Soon. It'll be soon. That was all he could tell himself, whispering silent vows over Catherine's sleeping face in the small hours of the night.

When you're better, I'll get on my knees and beg your forgiveness. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.

Now, at last, the moment had come.

Neville even bought a bouquet of gardenias. Her favorite.

"Cat!" he called, taking the stairs two at a time. "I'm home! Wait till you see what I brought you—"

The words died in his throat the instant he pushed open the door.