I woke up and found myself the heroine of a brutal romance novel. The day I slashed my wrists, the male lead was picking up his idealized first love, Genevieve, who had just returned from overseas. He sneered, “Didn’t you say you’d put up with anything just to marry me? Can’t even handle something this trivial?” Genevieve purred, “He loves me. If you hadn’t threatened his mother’s life, he would never have been with you. It’s time to return what was mine.” His mother, Patricia, whose life I’d saved, coldly added, “Here’s your money back. Can you please just let my son go? It’s better for everyone if you two divorce.” But I wouldn’t leave him. Because he was about to die. I woke up lying in a bathtub. Blood was everywhere. My phone was on speaker, and Julian’s angry voice blasted from it: “I’m home. Where the hell are you? Is it fun constantly creating drama like this?” I hung up, dialed 911, and the next time I woke, I was in a hospital room. The doctor said, “Another five minutes, and we wouldn’t have been able to save you. Luckily, your will to live is strong.” “Yeah, I know.” I had transmigrated into a dark romance novel. The original heroine, Maya, had desperately loved Julian, but he never returned her feelings. His constant emotional abuse had left her with severe depression and strong suicidal tendencies. Tonight, Julian was throwing a lavish welcome-home party for his idealized first love, Genevieve. Maya, pushed to her breaking point, had felt she couldn’t take it anymore and called him to come home. He was the one who had ignored her desperate plea for help. Her life was supposed to end today. But not anymore. “Your phone kept ringing. The caller ID said ‘Husband.’ We notified your family, and he’s on his way.” “Doesn’t matter. How’s the baby?” Maya had been pregnant when she tried to kill herself. “The fetal heartbeat almost stopped, but fortunately, the baby’s will to live is as strong as yours. For now, it’s out of danger. The detailed report will be ready soon.” “Thank you.” A while later, Julian, impeccably dressed in a suit, pushed open the door. He took one look at my bandaged wrist and scowled, his handsome brows furrowed. “Playing this game again? Maya, you try to kill yourself every other day. Why aren’t you dead yet?” “You’re not dead, so I’m not in a hurry,” I calmly looked at him. “I’ll be sending you off first, Julian.” In the original novel, after Maya lost both her and the baby, Julian seemed to suddenly fall in love with her. He was filled with belated regret. All that belated, overflowing affection. A year later, Julian died of stomach cancer. A year. Not long. I could wait. Julian had never heard such venomous words from Maya. He froze for a second. “I just went to a reunion with an old friend. Is it really that big of a deal?” His “old friend” was his idealized first love, Genevieve. Of course, I didn’t care. “The desire to kill someone can’t be hidden. Whatever you do, I want you dead. It has little to do with who you meet or what you do.” Julian shook his head in disbelief. “Maya, are you crazy? Constantly talking about dying, but don’t drag others into it.” “What kind of talk is that? She’s a depression patient. And you keep saying ‘die.’ How is that any different from attempted murder?” The doctor scolded him, then softly said to me, “Here’s the report. The baby is fine. You two are incredibly lucky. Mother and child are both safe.” “You’re pregnant?” Julian was stunned, then his face turned cold. “I told you I didn’t want kids. I always used protection. What did you do to the condoms?” “The best birth control is not to do it at all. Don’t you know that basic fact? Or are you saying I deliberately forced myself on you? If so, go call the police. Accuse me of marital rape.” Maya had always been a gentle, quiet woman. This was the first time Julian had seen her so sharp-tongued. He was so furious he could barely speak. “…You’re being unreasonable.” “Men who are terrible at arguing are boring. They’re useless beyond a pretty face, just annoying.” I pulled the covers over me and went to sleep, wondering what Maya ever saw in him. Julian stared at my back. His phone rang, and I faintly heard Genevieve’s voice: “…Julian, I’m drunk. I don’t know how to get to the hotel…” Julian glanced at me. “It’s not a good time tonight.” “It is. Go on, get lost,” I interjected. Julian was supposed to be with Genevieve tonight anyway. And Maya was supposed to bleed out, slowly. “Haven’t you made enough of a scene?” Julian’s voice was always laced with annoyance when he spoke to me. “You’re truly impossible to please. When I clung to you, you found me disgusting. Now that I don’t want to see you, you stick to me like superglue. What, have you fallen for me?” Julian glared at me, then stormed out, slamming the door. A moment later, he brought in a bedside chair, set it next to me, and lay down without a word.
I stayed in the hospital for a while, and Julian remained stone-faced during his visits. One day, I went for a psychological therapy session. My attending physician, Dr. Alex Thorne, spoke with me for a bit, then asked me to undergo a full battery of organic lesion tests and a new psychological evaluation. He looked at my reports as if he’d witnessed a medical miracle. “Your depression… it’s completely cured. Both your psychological assessment and test results are perfectly healthy.” “Depression often begins when a patient becomes overly fixated on a single goal, leading to narrowed focus, accumulated frustrations, and eventually self-attack and self-loathing. I used to love Julian, and my eyes were only on him. When he didn’t love me back, I felt worthless. Now that I’ve let go, my life force has naturally begun to flow again.” Dr. Thorne smiled and shook my hand. “Congratulations. I say that as a friend.” Dr. Thorne was the only one who truly cared about Maya. He had witnessed how this poor woman had sunk deep into the mire of love. All her efforts had been for naught. The most sincere emotions, had brought nothing but pain. “So, what are you going to do now? Divorce him?” “No,” I curled my lips into a smile. “He is a CEO, after all.” When he dies, the company will be mine. Why would I divorce him?
The day I returned home, Julian said he was busy and didn’t come to pick me up. Instead, I received a text from an unknown number. It was a picture of Julian. His eyes were slightly glazed, and he smiled gently at the camera, two buttons of his shirt undone, revealing his sculpted collarbone. Maya had never seen him look like that. But I was completely unfazed. I forwarded it to my lawyer, asking him to archive it. I had just stepped inside when I heard the lock click open again. It wasn’t Julian who entered, but his idealized first love, Genevieve. “All these years, his door code has remained my birthday, Maya. What makes you think you can compete with me?” She looked at me with the arrogant disdain of someone who felt deeply cherished. “Does playing doorman for us make you happy?” Genevieve never expected me to hit back: “Genevieve, if I hadn’t gone abroad to study five years ago, none of this would have happened. You see, the moment I came back, Julian couldn’t wait to see me. If you had any self-awareness, you’d pack your bags and leave immediately.” I dropped two lemon slices into a glass of warm water. “If I recall correctly, Ms. Genevieve, you went to New York? That’s not exactly far, a 25-hour flight. Why did it end up like a parting of the ways for eternity, forcing you to break up?” “Five years, 1800 days, 43,800 hours. He wouldn’t even spend 25 hours on you, never once visited you in America. How dare you believe he loves you? Were you being manipulated by him?” Genevieve froze for a second. “Julian couldn’t afford a plane ticket back then! If he had money, would he have let you leverage his mom’s life to force him to marry you?” “So you knew Julian was a guy who couldn’t even afford a twenty-five hundred dollar plane ticket five years ago? A man who clawed his way up from nothing?” I turned, holding my glass. “Now that he’s the CEO of Sterling Group, you’re telling me to get lost? Heh, you’re trying to commit grand theft in broad daylight!” As soon as the words left my mouth, police sirens wailed outside. Genevieve frowned. “You called the cops?” I raised my glass to her. “Any normal person calls the police when they’re being robbed. Just so you know.” As she was being led away by the police, she was still yelling, “Let’s see what charge you can pin on me!”
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