On the fifth day of the New Year, Mason Ford and I had plans to visit a famous frozen waterfall. It was supposed to be a romantic outing. But when we arrived, his childhood friend Fiona Hayes showed up unexpectedly. She inserted herself between us from the moment she appeared, linking her arm with his as they walked ahead to admire the scenery. I followed behind, trying to ignore the unease bubbling inside me.

Just then, I noticed a massive icicle above us starting to crack. My heart sank.

“Mason!” I screamed, pointing at the danger.

Without a second thought, he grabbed Fiona’s hand and ran, leaving me frozen in place.

Before I could react, the ice shattered and fell. I saw him anxiously checking Fiona for injuries as my vision blurred and then everything went dark.

***

The sharp smell of antiseptic jolted me awake. Pain radiated from my legs, but when I tried to move them, nothing happened. I couldn't even feel them anymore. Panic surged through me.

As soon as I ripped off the quilt, I found it empty. My head boomed and I frantically smashed my legs.

Outside, I heard the commotion and Fiona walked in with the face of watching a good show.

Seeing that I kept hitting myself, she stood next to me with a happy face.

“Oh, thank Goodness Mason protected me that day. Otherwise, it would’ve been me lying here like this,” she said with mock innocence.

Her words brought back the image of Mason fussing over her, ignoring me entirely. Something inside me snapped. I lunged at her, grabbed her arm and bit down hard. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth as she screamed.

Fiona started to let out a miserable scream, telling me to let her go. But I held on tighter, pouring every ounce of my pain into that bite.

Suddenly, Mason appeared. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me back, the searing pain forcing me to release her. My head slammed into the wall with a sickening thud and I felt like my skull was splitting open.

Even then, his attention was solely on Fiona. “What’s wrong with you? Are you crazy?” he shouted at me. “This has nothing to do with her!”

After saying that, he pulled her to find a doctor.

Left alone in the sterile room, I felt an ache so deep it consumed me. My body hurt, but my heart hurt more. I reached for the emergency call button, but my voice failed me. Struggling, I grabbed my phone and dialed the number programmed as my top emergency contact: Mason.

His idea was to make himself my speed-dial #1 after we got married, promising he’d always be on call in the future.

But the phone went through a few times and there was always only a machine on the other side coldly saying no one answered.

My head began to blur with consciousness and I finally fainted.

I thought I was dead, but I heard Fiona's crying voice.

“It’s all my fault, Mason,” she sobbed. “If I hadn’t upset her, she wouldn’t have fainted.”

After saying that, she cried even louder.

Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard. Shouting out loud, I told her to shut up.

Hearing me, Mason rushed over to ask how I was feeling. He looked at me with what I once thought was care, but now it felt like a façade.

I stared at him coldly, saying nothing. Perhaps it was because my eyes were too calm. He asked me handily if I was hungry and prepared to peel an apple for me.

I’d been with him long enough to read his every move. His trembling hands betrayed his nervousness as he held the knife. Sure enough, the blade slipped, cutting his finger.

Mason looked up at me and realized I still had a cold look on my face, the opposite of how I had previously cared for him.

In the past, I would’ve rushed to his side, fussing over him, searching for a bandage. But now, I just watched, detached, as he bled.

But since that day, I realized that everything was just me being self-centered and caring about him.

In that case, I'm tired and don't want to continue.

Fiona saw that Mason was injured and started yelling, ready to call the nurse over to bandage him.

The two of them stood close—too close.

When Mason caught me staring, he shifted uncomfortably and took a small step away from Fiona. His awkwardness should’ve felt like a victory, but instead, it fueled my disgust.

“Serves you right,” I said coldly, my voice cutting through the room like a blade.

Mason’s eyes widened in disbelief. He opened his mouth to respond, but Fiona was quicker.

“Elder Sister,” she said, her tone dripping with false concern. “I know it’s hard for you to cope with... this. But don’t take it out on Mason, okay? He’s just trying to help.”

The contrast between her tearful, innocent demeanor and her smug attitude the day before made my stomach churn. I couldn’t hold it back any longer—I dry-heaved, my body recoiling from the sheer nausea she inspired.

“Get out,” I snapped, pointing at the door. “Both of you. If you’re going to be disgusting, do it somewhere else. Just get out!”

Mason’s expression darkened, his brow furrowing in frustration. “That’s enough!” he barked. “I’ve tried to be patient because I know you’re upset, but Fiona hasn’t done anything wrong! You’re being unreasonable!”

And with that, he slammed the door on his way out, leaving me alone in a suffocating silence.

The tears came before I could stop them, blurring my vision as my chest tightened in pain. It wasn’t just my body that hurt anymore—it was my entire being.

After that fight, Mason stopped visiting altogether. He hired a nurse to look after me instead.

I had cared for him like a devoted housekeeper for years, tending to his every need. Now, ironically, it was my turn to be looked after by someone else. At least the nurse didn’t pretend to love me.

The doctor told me I needed plenty of rest, so their absence was a relief in some ways. No more dramatic confrontations. No more pain from seeing them together. Just the quiet, empty routine of recovery.

***

Almost a week had passed when I finally asked the nurse to take me outside. The weather was beautiful, the sunlight streaming through the hospital courtyard. But as I sat in the wheelchair, staring at my now-useless legs, reality hit me again.

It had been a week since the accident and I still couldn’t accept it.

The nurse pushed me through the garden, where couples laughed and played together. Watching them brought back a memory—one I thought I’d buried.

I remembered the day Mason collapsed at work. When the doctor said he had a brain tumor and needed surgery, I was terrified, trembling at the thought of losing him. But I stayed by his side, vowing to take care of him no matter what.

The surgery went well and we walked in this garden as he recovered. He held my hand and promised he would love me forever.

Forever. What an empty word. It hadn’t even lasted a few years before he forgot.

The memory weighed on me and I asked the nurse to take me back to my room. But on the way, a strange sound stopped us.

In the corner of the courtyard, I spotted two familiar figures.

Even from a distance, I recognized Mason immediately. His broad shoulders, the way he tilted his head—it was unmistakable. Fiona stood in front of him, clutching his hand tightly as if her life depended on it.

“Mason, you’re taking on too much. Let me help you take care of her,” she pleaded. “It’s my fault she ended up like this. I owe it to her.”

Mason hesitated for a moment. I saw the flicker of emotion in his face. Then, he reached out and gently touched her head.

Fiona fell into his arms, burying her face in his chest. And he wrapped his arms around her.

The sight was like a dagger to my heart.

I wasn’t someone who cried quickly, but the tears came anyway. Lately, they seemed to flow on their own.

It would’ve been a beautiful scene—a man and a woman supporting each other through difficult times. If only that man weren’t my husband.

But I didn’t scream or cause a scene. What was the point? Instead, I asked the nurse to take me back to my room.

***

Over the next few days, I spent a lot of time thinking.

For years, I believed I had a happy marriage. But looking back, I realized it was all in my head. My life revolved around Mason. He was my center, my everything.

But in his world, there was already someone else.

If that’s the case, then he isn’t worth it. I’m done with him.

There was a promotional video on TV about a university abroad for children with disabilities that is looking for volunteers.

The kids in the video were so young, each with their challenges. Despite that, their eyes shone with hope and determination. Watching them, I felt something deep inside me soften—a piece of myself that hadn’t felt alive in a long time.

I sent the school an email briefly introducing myself and explaining my situation. To my surprise, they responded quickly, saying they would love to have me volunteer with them and that I was welcome to do so.

Without hesitation, I booked a plane ticket for a flight a few days later.

There were still a few days left and I planned to say my final goodbye to everything here.

Shortly after booking my flight, Mason called me. Now, I didn't want to see him at all and hung up directly. I wasn’t interested in hearing anything he had to say. I didn't expect him to come straight to the hospital room to find me.

“Where are you planning to go when you buy the flight ticket?” he asked, his tone sharp with suspicion.

I remembered that his card was linked to the travel app.

“Nothing,” I replied dismissively. “Probably just clicked something by mistake. I mean, look at me. Where could I even go like this?”

My voice was cold, detached. Even I noticed the sharpness that crept in whenever I spoke to him now.

Mason looked like he wanted to say something, but before he could, his phone rang. When he glanced at the screen, his eyes darted away nervously.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, stepping outside to take the call.

Before the door fully closed, I caught a glimpse of the caller ID—and heard Fiona’s voice filtering through.

As I sat there, my phone buzzed. A notification popped up—Fiona’s latest post.

It was a picture of a man cooking in the kitchen, his back to the camera.

Even without seeing his face, I knew it was Mason.

I had refused to let him step foot in the kitchen for years. I worried he might hurt himself, convinced it was my job to care for him. And now, here he was cooking for another woman.

I had wanted to end things with him cleanly and peacefully, but not anymore. They had taken everything from me. I wanted them to pay—just a little, just enough to make them feel even a fraction of the pain I’d endured.

***

The night before my departure, I saw another post from Fiona. It was a photo of her and Mason together, smiling as if they had no care in the world.

That night, I made a phone call.

The line rang several times before he finally picked up.

“Mason,” I said softly, my voice deliberately weak, “the doctor said I have complications. They want to have surgery tomorrow. Can you come and stay with me?”

There was silence on the other end for a moment, followed by a cruel laugh in the background.

“Complications? Great!” Fiona’s mocking voice rang out. “Why don’t you just die and stop dragging Mason down with you?”

And then the call ended.

I stared at the phone ringing a busy signal for a moment before bursting into laughter. Oddly enough, I wasn’t sad. If anything, I felt lighter. Tomorrow, everything would all be over.

***

The drive to the airport the following day felt surreal. I gazed out at the city I had lived in for so many years, its streets and buildings holding good and bad memories. My emotions were a jumble—bittersweet nostalgia mixed with a growing excitement for the future.

As the plane taxied for takeoff, I sent Mason one final text.

“When you read this, I’ll already be gone. I don’t blame you for what happened, but I hope we don’t meet again in our next lives.”

After sending it, I directly threw away my cell phone card.

***

When Mason received the message, he panicked. He drove to the hospital, desperate to find me. But when he reached my empty room, dread sank into his chest—seeing the doctor to ask where I actually went.

“Where’s the patient who was staying here?” he demanded.

The doctor hesitated before replying, “Oh, that patient? She had surgery today but didn’t make it. Poor thing—she didn’t have any family come to visit.”

The words hit him like a sledgehammer. His legs gave out and he collapsed onto the floor, unable to process what he had just heard.