CHAPTER 3: That Night, I Felt Utter Despair

Somehow, I knew it was my child in that bag. The thought cut through me like a knife, leaving me breathless and numb. Once Daniel was far enough away, I pushed aside my physical weakness and the blood still trickling down my legs. Grabbing my phone, I ran out of the cabin.

In the dark, disoriented and lost, I followed a narrow dirt path with no clear destination in mind. All I knew was that I needed to get away, far away from that monster. Fear gnawed at me as I imagined Daniel discovering my absence and chasing after me.

Desperate, I fumbled for my phone to call for help, but I didn't know who to reach out to at this hour, and the battery was almost dead. With no other choice, I dialed my friend Natalie King.

After several rings, her groggy voice finally came through. "Kate?"

"Natalie, I—" I began, but just then, my foot slipped on the narrow path, and I fell, rolling into a muddy field.

I crawled out, covered in mud, my shoes lost somewhere in the dark, and my phone had died completely. Barefoot, with warm blood trickling down my legs and mixing with the dirt on my skin, I kept moving forward.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally stumbled onto the main road, passing a small diner where we had eaten earlier that day. At last, I found my bearings. I left the scenic area and followed the winding mountain road, walking without stopping, until my legs felt numb and the pain faded into a dull ache.

It was a warm summer night, yet I felt chilled to the bone.

Halfway down the mountain, I stopped, staring into the endless darkness below. A deep sense of despair washed over me. Two years of marriage, and I'd never truly known the man beside me. How blind, how foolish, how utterly pathetic was I?

In one night, I'd lost everything. Part of me wanted to end it all right then, just jump off the side of the mountain. But I thought of my mother. She'd lost my father in a car accident and had been in a coma ever since. If she lost me too, what would she do?

Then there was "Sirius," the kind stranger who had supported me financially and emotionally through my school years, lifting me up when I needed it most. If I ended it now, I'd be throwing away all his help, without even getting the chance to thank him in person. I didn't even know his real name.

Life is full of debts—those we owe and those owed to us. I still had unfinished business. Why had Daniel become so cruel? I couldn't just let it go.

In the end, I decided against jumping. Years later, I would look back and be grateful that I chose to live and face everything head-on.

I had to get out of the mountains. I couldn't stay here like a lost soul; I needed to return to the city and confront the life that had shattered overnight. But it was the middle of the night, and no cars were around.

Eventually, a few vehicles came by, their bright headlights illuminating my miserable state. I swallowed my pride and waved at them, but they passed by with a mixture of surprise and disdain, their loud music fading into the distance. To them, I probably looked like a beggar, a madwoman, a joke.

After each car left me behind, I became more desperate. Finally, I made a risky decision.

I pressed myself against the mountainside, and when I saw the headlights of another car approaching, I threw myself into the road.

If I didn't get hit, I'd get a ride. It was my only hope.

The brakes screeched painfully, and I tumbled to the ground, more from my own momentum than from the car hitting me.

A loud "thump" was followed by silence. I looked up, disoriented.

In the dim light, I couldn't see the driver's face clearly, but I watched as he calmly lit a cigarette, the small flame reflecting in his eyes. He looked like a man who knew his way around trouble.

He took a long drag, blowing out a circle of smoke as he looked me up and down with interest. I wanted to sink into the ground.

"You picked the wrong target for a scam, didn't you? I'm just riding a beat-up mountain bike," he said in a lazy, magnetic voice that still managed to sting like a slap.

Sure enough, he was riding a bike, not a car. The light I'd seen was just a headlamp mounted on his handlebars. From his perspective, I probably looked like I'd thrown myself into his path on purpose to get money out of him.

When our eyes met, his mocking expression faltered for a moment. But I quickly looked away, hugging my knees in silence.

Seeing that I wasn't asking for compensation, he lost interest. He took one last drag from his cigarette, propped it on the handlebars, and pedaled off, disappearing around the bend.

Once he was gone, I finally let the tears flow freely, sobbing into the quiet night. In that moment, I wished he'd stayed, even if only to mock me, so I wouldn't feel so alone.

But a few minutes later, his light reappeared, and I heard the sound of brakes. I looked up, surprised, as he parked his bike by the roadside again. He sat down casually and took out another cigarette.

"You're crying loud enough to wake the dead. Aren't you afraid of attracting ghosts?" he asked.

I stared at him, still tearful. This time, the headlamp illuminated his face.

He was handsome to the point of unfairness, his features sharp and strong. Dressed simply in a T-shirt and shorts, his hair damp with sweat, he exuded a calm strength. His exposed arms and legs were well-toned, radiating power and confidence.

It must have been my lack of demands that convinced him I wasn't trying to con him. Now, his eyes held only curiosity and confusion.

"You don't look so good," he observed, his gaze drifting to my bloodied feet.

I instinctively hugged my arms around myself and whispered, "I... I'm just a bit cold."

He nodded, keeping his cigarette between his lips as he pulled a jacket out of his bag and draped it over my shoulders.

"Th-thank you," I murmured, touched but also embarrassed, as his jacket smelled fresh and clean while I was covered in mud and blood.

"You should probably go to a hospital," he suggested.

A hospital? Daniel was a doctor, yet he'd left me like this. I managed a bitter smile. "I just want to go home."

The word "home" stung. Did I even have a home anymore?

He studied me for a moment, his eyes reflecting a glimmer of something I couldn't read. Then he nodded. "I'll give you a ride."

I glanced at his mountain bike, wondering how he intended to do that. He seemed to notice my hesitation and chuckled, then pulled out his phone to make a call.

"Hughes, bring the car around," he said, giving his location before hanging up.

Feeling awkward, I rubbed my shoulders and sank into silence again.

I heard the sound of another lighter click, and he lit another cigarette. He seemed to have a strong addiction.

"Aren't you afraid I'll trick you?" he asked casually.

I shivered slightly, the weight of everything sinking in.

"I have nothing left for anyone to take."