The instant I decided to jump, clarity shattered through me. I was the tragically short-lived "first love" in a redemption story. My suicide would seal the male lead's heart, transforming him from a bright, hopeful young man into a dark, ruthless mogul. He would only find solace and healing years later, in the warm glow of a new, sun-like heroine. But I knew the truth: I was on this ledge because he had driven me to the brink. 1 "Jump already! What kind of coward just stands there?" "I'm starving, heading to the dining hall. When are you actually going to jump?" "Isn't this just a fake suicide attempt to get a scholarship for grad school?" Sharp, mocking jeers pierced the air, growing even louder after the police tried to quiet them. I bit back the desperate urge to leap, slowly turning on the rooftop’s edge. The female officer, who had been trying to subtly approach me, immediately froze, her voice soft and soothing as she begged me not to be impulsive. My academic advisor and my roommate pushed Ellias closer. His eyes were a harsh mix of annoyance and blame, a flicker of irritation deep within them. Not a trace of worry. Even his voice was flat, devoid of emotion: "Lila Evans, stop being ridiculous." The female officer gently patted his back, a hint of prompting in her tone: "Ellias, weren't you so worried you almost fainted just now?" She smiled tightly. "Go on, talk to your girlfriend. There's no problem that can't be solved." I knew she was improvising, inventing an excuse for his belated arrival, terrified his coldness would push me over the edge. In reality, Ellias had been convinced I wouldn't actually jump. He'd simply turned off his phone when he got the news. It was Sarah, my roommate – who often called me "love-drunk" – who had rallied all our friends, scrambling across campus to find him casually playing tennis. It had taken all their convincing power to drag him here. Ellias, seeing no reaction from me, impatiently sharpened his tone. "Lila Evans, come here. Everyone's busy. We don't have time for your childish games." His callous demeanor made me doubt the strange flashes of memory in my mind were anything more than a desperate hallucination. How could Ellias ever be heartbroken by my death? He’d likely be relieved to finally shed a burden. Just like my own biological parents. Long-term medication had dulled my thoughts, but as I mused, someone suddenly tackled me. "Good girl. There's endless possibility in life." The female officer held me tight, her voice thick with relief. "Look at you, out in the wind for so long, you must be frozen solid. My treat, hot chocolate to warm you up." From afar, I heard cheers from the onlookers. So many people, I realized, were actually happy I was alive. Seeing that I was no longer resisting, the officer carefully helped me to my feet, guiding me swiftly away from the edge of the rooftop. "See, Ellias? I told you she was just faking it!" 2 I looked up at the girl who spoke. Brooke Thompson. Two years younger than Ellias, his next-door neighbor, who had followed her "Ellias" to our university. She’d always been tactless, but her words now were particularly sharp. Her smile stiffened abruptly under the disapproving stares of the crowd, quickly replaced by indignant fury. "What are you looking at? This isn’t Lila Evans’s first time threatening suicide!" she spat. "She just loves attention. You're all being fooled!" The female officer's face darkened. "Young lady, please show some basic respect for life." Brooke huffed, pouting. "I didn't say anything wrong." She wasn't wrong. This attempt was my thirteenth time trying to end my life. Starvation, overdose, cutting, carbon monoxide poisoning – each time I was rescued, Ellias's attitude toward me grew a little colder. Yet, he always saved me. I hated inconveniencing anyone; even in my despair, I chose methods I thought wouldn't bother others too much. If I hadn't yearned so desperately for Ellias's attention, I would never have dared to jump in front of a crowd. My body hitting the ground would undoubtedly mean a grueling cleanup for the janitorial staff, and that thought, almost more than the pain, gave me pause. In the original plot, I wouldn't have waited for Ellias. Amidst the jeers, I would have thrown myself off. Ellias would arrive a moment too late, witnessing my horrific death. This would shatter him, driving him to mental breakdown, consumed by endless regret for not saving me in time. He would unleash his fury on Brooke, the girl who’d held him back playing tennis. He would manipulate her into developing anorexia, until she withered away, barely fifty pounds, before she finally succumbed. Those who'd egged me on to jump would either be expelled or suffer mysterious accidents. No one who’d ever wronged me would be spared. No one would question Ellias’s ruthless revenge. Instead, they would sigh over his deep love for his tragic first love, hailing him as the epitome of devotion. Later, the heroine would patiently counsel him, telling him everyone deserved forgiveness. I merely lost my life, yet Ellias, even after achieving great success, would remain utterly tormented. They'd say he loved me to the core, a love so profound it became legendary. But now, I hadn't died. All I could do was watch Ellias step in front of Brooke, defending her. "Officer, 'respect for life' is a conversation more suited for Lila Evans." Brooke smirked at me, raising an eyebrow. "Lila, Aunt Carol really doesn't want to see you waste your precious life, either." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, but it carried. "After all, you were so desperate to live back then that you even pushed your own mother—" "Brooke!" Ellias cut her off, his voice sharp. "We need to go." "Oops, almost spilled the beans again!" Brooke clapped a hand over her mouth, her smile oozing malice. "My bad. I shouldn't provoke Lila." "Miss Evans, don't get upset!" "Lila Evans!" "Lila!" The words "own mother" echoed like the gaping maw of a beast, swallowing all other sound. I stared at Ellias, my gaze fixed, muttering, "You promised me. You promised me. Why did you break your word?" Ellias's indifferent expression finally shifted, but not because of my questions. It was for Brooke, who had clutched her chest and collapsed, seemingly in pain. A deafening roar filled my head, like a thousand steel needles stirring within. The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was him scooping Brooke into his arms, turning his back, and walking away without a moment's hesitation. 3 When I opened my eyes again, Sarah was sitting by the bed, grimacing as she played on her phone. "Damn it!" She tossed the phone down, met my surprised gaze, and irritably scratched her head. "What, not happy it's me sitting here?" She rolled her eyes. "Too bad your precious Ellias is busy playing nursemaid to his 'sick' little sister." Her words were sharp, but beneath them, a familiar closeness, and if I listened carefully, a hint of anxiety. "No... no, not at all. Thank you." I hadn't spoken normally with anyone in so long; the more eager I was, the harder it was to express myself. Even my thanks came out haltingly. "Thank you, really, Sarah." Sarah waved a dismissive hand. "Don't thank me, thank Officer Miller. If she hadn't asked me to look after you, I wouldn't bother with your dramatic, love-struck nonsense." Her face was grim, her short hair damp with sweat and sticking up in disarray. She was still wearing the same dust-stained clothes from earlier, and there were large, treated scrapes on her knees and arms. Probably from a fall. Guilt surged from deep within me. "I'm so sorry." Sarah had been the first to reach the rooftop to stop me. She’d called the police, then alerted professors and my advisor. When I’d desperately threatened my life to see Ellias, she’d rallied friends to search for him. She’d poured all her energy into saving a roommate who had once betrayed her. If I hadn’t awakened, all her efforts would have culminated in witnessing my brains splattered on the pavement – a lifelong trauma. Meanwhile, Ellias, who had been too busy playing a sappy game of tennis with Brooke to arrive in time, was somehow seen as the greatest victim. All because after my death, he’d found countless ways to torture himself. Even my biological father, who had abandoned his wife and daughter, was moved by Ellias’s apparent devotion, actively seeking him out to drink and offer solace, commiserating with him like a kindred spirit, urging him to let go and start anew. Only Sarah had pointed a furious finger at Ellias, tearing into him as a "performer," asking why he didn't just join me if he was so bent on revenge against Brooke and everyone else. Ellias, unable to stand the mockery, had run off to jump into the river, only to accidentally save an influential figure, gaining a boost in his career. Sarah, however, was accused of inciting suicide, subjected to relentless cyberbullying, and lost her chance to study abroad. Years later, the heroine would even dig her up, draining her of her last bit of worth to aid in the male lead’s healing. No one remembered she was once my only friend. Until Ellias claimed Sarah was trying to seduce him. He presented chat screenshots, photos, and even "witnesses." I hadn't dared to ask Sarah, trying to pretend I didn't know, hoping to remain her friend. When Sarah heard the rumors, she confronted me, asking who I believed. Like many times before, I chose Ellias. She’d been furious, immediately calling the police, forcing Ellias into a confrontation at the station. It turned out the chat logs were faked by someone impersonating her, the photos were ill-timed shots, and the "witnesses" were known for casually spreading baseless sexual rumors. Ellias had promptly apologized to her. But I, overwhelmed by guilt, had been unable to open my mouth. From that day on, Sarah drew a clear line, emphasizing that we were just ordinary roommates, and she would never be friends with a love-struck girl who put a man above all else. I was already awkward and unlikable. After that, beyond necessary communication, only Ellias would talk to me. But he was always busy: student government work, art department events, and countless parties where I wasn’t welcome. Our chat history was filled with my one-sided messages. Even after my suicide attempt and subsequent collapse due to Brooke’s provocation, Ellias only sent a cold, terse command in the brief gaps between attending to her: [Once you've calmed down, we need to talk.] 4 A familiar dull ache spread through my chest, yet my thoughts were clearer than they'd ever been. I took a deep breath, my fingers trembling as I typed a reply: [No need. I agree to break up.] Whether those melodramatic plot points were the reality of my future or just hallucinations brought on by too much medication, one thing was certain: Ellias didn't love me. And I was tired of being a crazy person. "You're actually blocking your most beloved boyfriend?" Sarah blinked her clear eyes, not even trying to hide her peeking. She looked almost... happy. Gathering my courage, I asked her to come home with me. In the second semester of sophomore year, Ellias had filled out an application for me to live off-campus, citing my unstable mental health. The house was one of the inheritances my mom left me. She had once wanted to drag me with her, to die there together, to make my cheating father regret. After my mom's death, I used the rent money to pay for high school, letting tenants completely transform the house until no trace of my childhood trauma remained. Now, the house was filled with Ellias's belongings. His gaming room, his art studio, his bar. The living room displayed his annual birthday gifts for me, only three of them. Last year, I had lost my "reward" for not being obedient. Sarah stood in the doorway. "Alright, pack your stuff and move back to the dorm. I'll have Chloe and Emily clear out a bed for you." She added, "Make sure to calculate the rent, don't let him take advantage." "This house is mine," I said, unable to meet Sarah's "are you crazy?" look. "Sarah, I want Ellias to move his stuff out." "Wanting it won't do anything. Make him get his butt over here and move it!" Ellias wasn't answering calls or texts. Sarah scoffed, then called a moving company to come pack everything up. She even took photos and posted them to her social media: [Helping a friend clear out her ex-boyfriend's relics.] I stared unblinking at the word "friend" until my eyes stung, then splashed cold water on my face. That’s when I noticed Ellias's new directive: [Tell Sarah to leave immediately.] [Lila Evans, you're testing my limits.] [You have one hour to restore everything, or face the consequences!] Sarah snorted. "He really thinks he's king of the world." The complex emotions swirling in my heart were dispelled by her words. I calmly typed four words in reply: [This is my home.] 5 Ellias never showed up. He was sure I wouldn't dare. So I had the moving company deliver a dozen large cardboard boxes to the school gates. I heard Ellias's face was a sight when he arrived. The campus gossip pages were buzzing, debating if I'd finally come to my senses or completely lost it. My advisor, fearing another breakdown, proactively granted me a month's medical leave, urging me to rest thoroughly before returning to classes. I needed the time to sift through the ruins of my life anyway. An entire month passed. Ellias never contacted me, and I never sought him out. Brooke, though, posted daily nine-panel grids of her lavish meals and adventures, showcasing how much fun she was having with her "Ellias." As the furor over my suicide attempt gradually subsided, I invited Sarah to lunch. "Thank you for being there for me for so long. Can I treat you to burgers?" Sarah hesitated for only a second. "Burgers, yes!" After two long years, I was finally sitting down to a meal with a friend again. The cool carbonation of the cola warmed me from the inside out. Ellias only liked Chinese food. Whenever I suggested trying foreign cuisines, he would reprimand me, saying I was brainwashed by consumerism. Yet, the restaurants he took his friends to often cost hundreds of dollars per person. I felt that socializing among students shouldn't exceed a college student's budget, but he would impatiently insist it was a "reasonable investment," unlike my wasteful spending on mere cravings. To "correct" my bad habits, he demanded I hand over my monthly allowance of two thousand dollars for him to manage. Ellias never asked what I liked to eat. He simply arranged my meals according to his idea of a balanced diet. He'd watch me finish the broccoli I hated, demand I drink every drop of the intensely gamey lamb soup from the cafeteria, and, citing my "family history of illness," would beg others to stop me from drinking bubble tea or sodas. Back when I still had friends, they would jokingly say they envied my "dad-like boyfriend." The more they said it, the more I believed it, grateful to Ellias for filling the void left by my father. I didn't even realize the allowance was from my own father. Even if it was a love only expressed through money, it was still cold, hard cash. And Ellias's "love" for me was merely arranging custom meals from a mild Cantonese restaurant. Sarah stared at me, wide-eyed. "Lila Evans, do you know how many meals you could get at 'Chen's Bistro' with two thousand dollars?" I hadn’t calculated it. Thanks to Ellias's superficiality, Mr. Chen, the owner, remembered me well as a loyal customer of over two years. He quickly sent me the menu prices and mentioned that the anniversary special could be stacked with a renewal discount. Three hundred dollars a month for a balanced diet of meat and vegetables, plus after-meal fruit – less than a sixth of my allowance. And even though I hadn't been attending classes, the meals were still being delivered to the school. No wonder one of Brooke’s recent meal photos had looked so familiar. Ellias truly knew how to infuriate me. 6 "He needs to pay up!" Sarah declared, her voice firm. "Ellias has to give you your money back!" With that, she frantically rushed out to call her aunt, who was a lawyer. I thought it wouldn't be that complicated. I just sent Ellias the itemized breakdown: [Ellias Reed, please return my remaining allowance, totaling $32,510.00.]
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "392739", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel