Chapter 8
I said nothing more.
Ignoring the pallor in his face, I grabbed Marcus–still frozen in place–and turned to leave.
Only when Graham’s figure had vanished from sight did I let go.
But Marcus caught my hand before I could pull away.
I looked up at him, confused.
“Back then,” he said quickly, “yes–I did consider researching your blood. I won’t deny it. But I’m not that man anymore.”
His voice was tight, his eyes searching mine, laced with hesitation–afraid I might walk away because of the past.
I gave him a faint, helpless smile.
“I understand. You never hurt me. You even saved me. I should be thanking y
not blaming you.
His shoulders dropped in relief, though a trace of guilt still lingered in his expression.
If you want time away from me,
I’ll understand. Just… think about it, okay?”
Then he turned and walked alone into the night.
His silhouette faded into the shadows–lonely, almost abandoned.
My chest clenched unexpectedly.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned.
And then, suddenly, my phone lit up.
A message. From an unknown number.
I opened it–and my eyes widened.
It was a video.
པ་དང་།ད་མ་དག་ནད་པ་ད་ ད་ཅན་ན་ནང་ད
Graham… kneeling in a pool of blood, a deep knife wound slashed across his back, bone nearly
Then a text followed: [I know you don’t believe me. I know you won’t forgive me. But I wanted
༥༥༠༥ ད་པས་དམ ིགས་ད་ངང་འད་ད་འ་
ཡོངས་ལ་མད་ས་དེ་་་་ག་་སྐུ་ཚད་ད་ ག་ན་དག་་ནི་ཏང་དང་ཚད་
to
show
you I’m truly sorry.]
NO
My hands trembled as I typed a single word: [Psycho!]
His reply came instantly; [So you do still care about me.]
I slammed my finger on the screen:
[If you really regret what you did–go join our son in the afterlife. Don’t stand here bleeding for attention.]
[Is it because you’ve fallen for someone else? Is that why you won’t forgive me?]
I shut the screen off, refusing to answer.
But the image of Graham’s crazed eyes haunted me.
Eventually, I threw on a coat and ran out into the night, heart pounding.
I didn’t calm down until I saw Marcus–completely unharmed–standing outside his door.
“You… made up your mind?”
His eyes lit up, fingers fidgeting inside his coat pocket.
Chapter 8
3
MoboReels–Short —
100 000
I didn’t get the chance to answer.
My pupils contracted.
From the shadows behind him–Graham lunged forward, brandishing a fruit knife.
“Watch out!”
But the sound of the blade slicing through flesh still came.
I crumpled to the ground, holding Marcus as the blood from his wound soaked through my pajamas.
My fingers flew across my phone, dialing the emergency number I had saved.
I screamed for help to the neighbors around us.
Graham hesitated for a moment–then tossed the knife and fled.
Sirens wailed. Flashing red and blue lights lit up the street.
I held Marcus’s cold hand as they wheeled him into the ambulance.
He spent three hours in surgery.
When the doctor finally stepped out and said, “He’s stable for now,”
my knees gave out. I collapsed.
Graham was arrested shortly after.
The evidence from the surveillance footage was damning–he didn’t even get a chance to plead. He was thrown straight into prison. He kept asking to see me.
I declined every time.
The first week caring for Marcus… he didn’t wake.
I sat beside him day and night, desperate.
Holding his hand, I whispered through tears: “Please wake up. I’ve already made my dec
Just then, I felt the faintest motion–his fingertip tracing across my palm.
A slow curve. A gentle reply.
My breath caught. \
“What… what are you trying to say?”
I looked up–and found his eyes open.
Soft. Steady. Full of light.
Golden morning sun filtered through the curtain slats, casting pale flecks across his face.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
I hooked my pinky around his.
“I’m not leaving you,” I whispered.
In the days he was unconscious, all I could think of was him.
Chapter 8
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Claude Sonnet 4 delivers exceptional coding, thinking capabilities.
His warmth. His steadiness. His voice.
I’d already gotten used to having him in my life.
He smiled–eyes curving into little crescent moons.
And I smiled back, unable to stop myself.
This time, we’ll take things slowly, savoring each step.
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