My wife, Sarah, was a lifeguard. A deep-sea specialist. After she led me into the depths, she suddenly left me alone. I thrashed desperately in the water, my oxygen running low, frantically mashing the call button on my radio, sending out an S.O.S. Finally, a response, but it was her impatient rebuke: "Have you had your fun yet? Someone's choking on water, I'm in a rush to save them! You're spamming the emergency channel, tying up public resources! Obstructing a rescue is a jailable offense!" Over the cacophony in the background, I heard her ex-boyfriend's choked, emotional voice. "I knew it, Sarah! I knew you still had feelings for me, that you'd come save me." At death's door, I didn't argue. I kept sending out distress signals. The lifeguard who finally answered told me with regret, "Someone's drowning in the shallows, all the nearest lifeguards have rushed over. I've notified HQ to send someone. You have to hold on." If I remembered correctly, the shallow area was barely five feet deep. I stared down into the abyss below me, my last bit of oxygen depleting in a haze of despair. Before the blackness of suffocation consumed me, I left Sarah one final message. "I'm done making a scene, Sarah. I wish you two happiness." The sharp pain of suffocation suddenly vanished. I saw my own body, floating in the seawater. My limbs were still contorted in a struggle for life. Fish and shrimp swam past. With a flick of a tail, my body drifted uncontrollably a little further down. The face under the oxygen mask was a ghastly blue-gray, lips swollen and white from the saltwater. So, I was dead. An hour ago. My wife Sarah and I had come here to dive. As a highly skilled deep-sea lifeguard, she led me into the deep-water zone. But shortly after we arrived, she abruptly left on her own. I wasn’t a strong swimmer and couldn't handle the deep-sea pressure. I simply couldn't keep up with Sarah's speed. In the blink of an eye, she vanished without a trace. Relying on tips she’d given me before, I slowly kicked my legs, managing to hold on for a bit, but I barely moved. Then my leg got tangled in seaweed. Panicking, I gasped for air, and the red light on my oxygen mask flashed – the warning that my air was about to run out. I hurriedly pressed the radio, sending a distress signal to Sarah. After all, she knew my location best; it would save precious search time. However, there was no response from the other end. I remembered when she confessed her feelings for me: "Alex, my job is to save people. As soon as I receive a distress signal, I'll be there in a heartbeat." "This is your exclusive device." "Whenever, wherever, if you send a signal, I will cross any distance to be by your side." I’d thought about setting the signal range to maximum, but decided to keep pressing. Sarah was in charge of this area, and too wide a signal would make pinpointing my location harder. Finally, Sarah's voice came through, but it was an interrogation. "Alex, what the hell are you doing, mashing the signal button? It's giving me a headache!" Only then did I realize I’d been pressing too fast, a purely instinctual survival response. I struggled to take a breath to speak, but my throat felt like a rusted pipe; I could only manage a hoarse whisper. My oxygen was nearly gone, but Sarah didn't seem to notice my distress. When she heard no reply, she grew impatient. I clenched my jaw, forcing out a few words: "Sarah, I'm almost out of air… save me…" But she yelled back, "Have you had your fun yet? Someone's choking on water, I'm in a rush to save them! You're spamming the emergency channel, tying up public resources! Obstructing a rescue is a jailable offense!" "And you say you're out of air? I filled your tank myself, you think I don't know how much is in it?" "Can you tell the truth for once, instead of just lying?" In the background, I heard her ex-boyfriend, Ryan, his voice thick with emotion. "Sarah, I knew you still had feelings for me, you’d definitely come save me." Between us, who was the one full of lies? For the past three months, Sarah had often been MIA. Even on dates, if I looked away for a second, she'd be gone. When I asked, she always said a colleague needed her. But I’d clearly seen messages pop up on her phone from a guy – Ryan. My intuition was usually spot on. It cost me a bit, but I found out who he was – her on-again, off-again boyfriend of three years. The woman I was about to marry was still entangled with her ex, running around for him, yet she’d abandoned me in the deep sea and berated me when I called for help. The irony was bitter. The radio let out a piercing shriek as Sarah unilaterally ended the call. Before my oxygen completely ran out, I gritted my teeth and set the distress signal to its maximum range. Finally, a lifeguard responded, but after checking the signal location, he said, as expected, that this area was Sarah’s responsibility and he’d transfer me. "Transfer failed? What’s Captain Sarah doing? How come I can't reach a single lifeguard in this sector?" "Impossible, Captain Sarah is a trained professional, she wouldn't make such a rookie mistake!" On the other end of the radio, the lifeguard was discussing it with his colleague. The signal was intermittent, and the suffocation made it hard to hear the rest. I bit my tongue hard, regaining a sliver of consciousness. I heard him say urgently, "Sorry, someone's drowning in the shallows, all the nearest lifeguards have rushed over. I've notified HQ to send someone. You have to hold on." My vision was already clouding with large black spots. "How long…?" I asked, my voice a mere thread. "I'm… almost out of air…" "We'll be as quick as possible. Your distress signal is quite far out, making it hard to pinpoint your location, but we'll reach you and start the rescue within twenty minutes at the latest. You absolutely have to hold on." He tried to soothe me with words. He even suggested some self-rescue techniques. I looked down at my legs, increasingly tangled in seaweed, trying to breathe steadily, to conserve my minimal energy… I didn’t have the strength to tell him I’d already tried those when I was first abandoned. His words replayed in my mind. "Someone's drowning in the shallows…" If I remembered correctly, the shallow area was barely five feet deep. Even if a child were drowning, any nearby adult could pull them up, not to mention there were other lifeguards patrolling the beach. But Sarah still went. I remembered a fortnight ago, Sarah missed our wedding. On the dais, to my right, stood my dad, leaning on his cane, his leg still bad. To my left, her parents, looking impatient, constantly checking their phones. Below were our relatives and friends, Sarah's and mine. Every invitation, Sarah had handwritten and delivered personally. Every step of the reception, she had rehearsed. Even the officiant's speech, Sarah had meticulously crafted after reading countless books. But after the dry speech ended, when it was time to exchange rings, Sarah's colleague came up on stage. "Alex, I'm sorry. Captain Sarah had an emergency. Here's the ring. She said if you put it on, the wedding is complete." I looked at the wedding ring, so carefully chosen by Sarah. My heart felt like it was submerged in water, sour and swollen. Sarah, did she care about me, or not? After the wedding. Sarah sent a cold, brief thank you. "Alex, thank you for holding the wedding together on your own. I'm sorry about this. Tonight, you can punish me however you want." Then, in the empty bridal suite, I waited for her all night. The next day, I opened social media and saw Ryan had updated his status. "Your groom wasn't me, but your wedding night was mine." Below it was a photo: Sarah, asleep. And Sarah, using her main account, liked it. That evening. Sarah came home for dinner. I sat across the table from her, calmly expressing my views on marriage, on love. I said that since we were married, we had to take on the corresponding responsibilities. But she held her chopsticks in one hand, shoveling food into her mouth, while her other hand was busy replying to messages. She yawned. I stared at her. On the screen, the account labeled "Colleague" sent a message. "You worked hard last night. I won't be so difficult next time." The dam of my suppressed anger finally burst. I threw the social media evidence at her, questioning her, arguing with her. She flew into a rage, slammed the door, and left. I looked at the mess on the floor, an endless weariness washing over me. Since Sarah couldn't make a choice, I would make it for her. I sent her a divorce message and started packing to move out. But Sarah knelt before me in the pouring rain, and right in front of me, blocked all of Ryan's contact methods. She said, "Alex, I love you. Let's put the past behind us, start fresh. I messed up the wedding, I'll make it up to you with a honeymoon, okay?" And then, she took me to the deep sea, and abandoned me again. The lifeguard on the other end of the radio couldn't hear my response and his tone grew anxious. "Can you still hear me? I'm doing my best to get there, please don't give up hope." Just as he said that, the signal cut out due to the distance. I didn't want to give up hope, but reality didn't bend to my will. The red light on my oxygen tank blinked faster and faster. I gritted my teeth and thrashed my legs, but I couldn't break free from the damn seaweed. My consciousness began to fade, my body spasming from oxygen deprivation. In an instant. The light on the oxygen tank stopped blinking. It was completely empty. Many images flashed before my eyes, finally settling on Sarah's back as she turned and walked away without hesitation. With my last breath, I pressed the distress signal and spoke my final words. Perhaps it was too much regret. My soul drifted higher and higher, following my last words, to Sarah's side. The shallow area was bustling with people, forming a circle. In the center of the crowd, Ryan and Sarah were playing out a chase scene. Sarah gripped Ryan's hand tightly, hugging him close. "Ryan, don't test anyone with your own life. You need to love yourself, understand?" The crowd was just watching the spectacle, but Sarah's colleagues looked like they were swallowing something bitter. Finally, someone couldn't stand it anymore and pushed through the crowd. He reminded her, "Captain, we need to go. HQ sent a message twenty minutes ago. Someone's out of oxygen in the deep-sea zone, ordering us to launch a rescue." I remembered him; he was the one who brought the ring to the stage at the wedding. His name was Mark. Sarah frowned, bent down to tuck the blanket around Ryan, then turned around impatiently. "I made myself clear. No one is out of oxygen in the deep-sea zone. I just came from there to rescue him. I know better than you!" Mark's face flushed red. "But HQ keeps pushing. It's a matter of life and death, we can't be careless." Hearing this, Sarah's face darkened. She felt her authority was challenged and said sarcastically, "What a coincidence, two lives in danger at the same time. Someone must be lying. If you want to question my decision, rush to grab the credit, then get lost. I'm not stopping you!" "It's a life-or-death situation, how did it become about grabbing credit? Besides, you're in charge of this area. One order from you, and we all have to come witness your love story with your... partner. You think anyone dares to leave?" Mark was young and fiery, his words dripping with sarcasm. "You!" Sarah's face turned ashen. She grabbed Mark's collar. The crowd recoiled in fear, and her colleagues rushed forward. Ryan gently tugged at Sarah's sleeve, swaying it back and forth. "Sarah, don't be mad." "Mark's not a bad guy, he just wants to save people. I think... we should go." And just like that, after his two sentences, Sarah let go of Mark. Ryan smiled brightly, turned, and bowed to the crowd. "Thank you all for saving me just now. You'll all be rewarded. I'll cherish my life and never trouble anyone again." With that, he winked at Sarah. He wouldn't trouble others, but Sarah... she wasn't "others." The twenty-minute rescue window HQ had told me about had completely passed. Only then did Sarah and her team set off in the rescue boat. As she buckled her life vest, Sarah muttered impatiently. "Always causing trouble, wasting time." My smile was bleak. Sarah, I am already asleep beneath the waves. I won't cause any more trouble. The rescue boat sped across the sea. Sarah helped Ryan adjust his blanket. "Sarah, your radio suddenly went silent earlier. Alex isn't really in trouble, is he?" Ryan tilted his head, feigning concern. Sarah sneered. "He's doing it on purpose." "A perfectly good honeymoon, and he has to make such a drama out of it. Just now on the radio, he was saying something about not making a scene anymore. I don't get what's going on in his head." Hearing this, Ryan lowered his head, a smug smile playing on his lips. But his tone was still soft and weak. "Is it because of the wedding? Sarah, I really didn't mean to. You know I have depression. How about… you ask Alex to come out, and we can clear things up?" He struck a magnanimous pose, his eyes slightly red. Sarah gently stroked the corner of his eye, shaking her head. "No need. You're sick. You don't have to accommodate anyone." With that, Sarah let go of Ryan, sat to one side, and began to define the search area. She suddenly frowned, tapping her finger twice on a specific location, then took out her radio, trying to reconnect to the distress signal. But it failed. I saw her sigh, take out her phone, open her messaging app. The wallpaper was a photo of me. She opened a chat window labeled "Hubby" and typed: "Alex, life needs a little drama to be exciting. The honeymoon I promised you has just begun. You wanted to see snow, right? We'll leave tomorrow." A faint smile unconsciously touched her lips. If we could share the snow, this life would count as growing old together. The rescue boat suddenly stopped. A wave crashed over it, flooding the boat. Sarah, quick as lightning, grabbed Ryan, holding him protectively. The message she’d just typed hadn't been sent; her phone, soaked, went black. Ryan coughed violently, his arms wrapped tightly around Sarah's waist. Sarah patted him soothingly, pried his hands off, and stood up from the rescue boat. The lifeguards climbed back in, one by one. The radar was off, but they were still checking for other victims. One lifeguard climbed onto Sarah's boat, ripped off his oxygen mask, and threw it aside. He panted, questioning her: "Captain Sarah, this is your sector! Lifeguards from further out rushed here, but you were missing! What the hell were you doing?!" My body was pulled out, bloated and grotesque from the seawater. A female lifeguard covered me with her jacket, preserving my last shred of dignity, only my arm hung limply. Sarah's gaze fell upon me, and when she saw the wedding ring on my ring finger, she froze. The lifeguard was still speaking up for me. "According to the signal trajectory, you were the first to receive the victim's distress call. Why didn't you save him? You call yourself a senior lifeguard? Watching a life end right before your eyes! To put it bluntly, this is tantamount to intentional homicide!"
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