His words echoed in my ears, and I shut my eyes, trying to push down all the emotions bubbling up inside me.

'Ryan, from now on... let's part ways. Let the bridge be the bridge, and the road be the road.'

By the time the security guards found me, I was already unconscious, in shock. The doctor said I might not have made it if they had been any later.

I woke up to the sterile smell of the hospital and the soft sound of Diana's voice.

"Where's Ryan?" she asked, her voice full of concern. She was standing by my bed, swiping through her phone, her expression growing angrier by the second.

I reached out and grabbed the phone from her hand.

A post from Stacey's Moments caught my eye.

[Maybe you're the only one who'd spoil me like this. One phone call, and you drop everything just to be here. I'm so touched.]

Ryan had commented: [You little liar, you almost scared me to death.]

My stomach twisted as I looked at the picture accompanying the post. It was Ryan with Stacy, cooking for her in a cozy kitchen.

So, Stacey didn't have a heart attack after all.

She'd lied, yet Ryan was still there, staying by her side. He had completely forgotten about me, trapped in that elevator, struggling for air.

A suffocating ache filled my chest. Fighting back tears, I grabbed Diana's phone again and drafted my resignation letter.

The door to my room opened as my fingers hovered over the "send" button.

Just in the afternoon, Ryan visited me. As he walked inside the room and said in anger, "How could you not take care of yourself? I was only gone for one night, and you got yourself hospitalized."

I stared at him, completely numb. Maybe it was the coldness in my eyes, but it seemed like something in him shifted.

He sighed long and picked up the congee from the food tray. "I made this for you," he said in concern. "Don’t tell me you don’t like vegetables in your chicken soup."

Before I could respond, Stacey walked in behind him. "Huh? Ryan, wasn't this the porridge I left over from this morning?"

I couldn't bear to watch their little act, their rehearsed drama. I pushed the bowl of porridge away from me. "I'm not drinking it. You two can leave."

Stacey seemed to realize she'd messed up and quickly grabbed the bowl, trying to feed me.

"I'm sorry, Laura," she said, her voice laced with fake sweetness. "I didn’t realize this was for you. I got a little greedy and had some of the soup. Please don’t take it out on Ryan."

Before I could even reach out to stop her, the bowl trembled and tipped over, spilling hot porridge all over the bed.

"Laura!" Ryan exploded. "There's a limit to how jealous and unreasonable you can be! Stacey already apologized. What else do you want from her?"

After yelling at me, he quickly grabbed my hand, which had been burned by the scalding porridge, and began blowing on it, one breath at a time.

Stacey's eyes welled up with fake tears. "Ryan, please don't blame Laura. She didn't mean to knock the bowl over."

Her words only made things worse. Ryan snapped at her, turning his anger onto me.

In one swift motion, he grabbed the pot of porridge and slammed it onto the floor, making it crash.

"If I’d known," he shouted, "I’d rather feed this to a dog than hand it over to you!"