Chapter 7

Winona's POV

I stood up. "I'm not feeling well. I'm going to bed."

As I turned, he suddenly grabbed my wrist. "Winona, you're not going to leave me, are you?"

I hadn't expected him to notice so keenly.

Since he'd guessed, I might as well be honest-we could part on good terms.

But then River locked his gaze on me intensely. "We've been together for four years. By now we're both used to each other's presence. You won't leave me, right?"

So he was anxious about me leaving only because he'd grown accustomed to my presence.

I suddenly remembered that in all these years together, though River had been a competent boyfriend, he'd never once said the word "love" to me.

Thinking about it now, he never said "love" to me perhaps because the person he truly loved in his heart was someone else.

As for me, I was just a habit.

I smiled slightly. "You're right."

I had indeed grown accustomed to his presence too.

It was just a habit I could break.

Perhaps it was my recent abnormal behavior that made River especially uneasy. He actually took several days off and stayed home specifically to keep me company.

He personally cooked the dishes I liked, took me out to movies and shopping-everything seemed just like before.

Yet something had changed.

A couple days later, Clara called.

When the specially assigned ringtone sounded in the living room, I was watering plants on the balcony.

I heard River answer the phone, his tone unconsciously gentle. "Clara?"

My hand paused. Water flowed in a thin stream from the watering can's spout.

River hung up and came over. "Clara said a friend of hers is holding an art exhibition here, opening tomorrow. She got two extra tickets and wants to invite us both."

Before he spoke, I heard that he'd already agreed.

"Sounds good." I set down the watering can. "I haven't been to an exhibition in a long time anyway."

The next day, when River and I arrived at the exhibition venue, Clara, carefully made up, was already waiting at the entrance to the gallery.

"River! You're here!"

She hurried forward, very naturally reaching out to link her arm with River's.

River's body stiffened slightly, his peripheral vision glancing at me.

I'd already started walking inside.

Behind me, Clara's soft voice continued, "This exhibition is hosted by a friend of mine who just returned from France. Many of the works are really interesting..."

The gallery had soft lighting and sparse crowds.

"River, look at this one." Clara pointed at an oil painting depicting a seaside sunset. "Doesn't it look like that bay we went to for landscape painting in college?"

River followed her pointing finger, memories stirring, his expression somewhat dazed.

"Mm, it does look similar."

Clara wore a nostalgic expression. "Thinking back to that time, it was really wonderful. We did so many things together, went to so many interesting places..."

I had no interest in listening to them reminisce. I was quickly drawn to several works combining ecological photography with oil painting and slowed my pace.

"Watch out!"

The instant the cry rang out, a sharp snapping sound came from overhead, steel cables breaking.

I looked up and saw a massive suspended installation losing balance, toppling toward where they stood.

Everything happened too fast.

River didn't hesitate for even a second. He lunged toward Clara, wrapping her tightly in his arms as they both rolled toward a safe area.

I only had time to raise my arms to protect my head and face.

Shattered crystal fragments rained down. Sharp pieces sliced across my left shoulder, bringing piercing pain.

I staggered backward. My foot caught on something and I fell.

The back of my head slammed hard against the edge of a metal display stand. Intense pain came with instant darkness, warm liquid flowing from both my shoulder and the back of my head.

I lay on the cold floor, ears ringing, vision beginning to blur.

I used all my strength to turn my head slightly. Through the blood haze, I saw River helping Clara to her feet.

Blood seeped through his back, yet his first instinct was to check on Clara. His voice carried a panic I'd never heard before. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Where are you injured?"

Clara leaned against him, pale, shaking her head gently.

So he really did love Clara.

Loved her so much that in a crisis, he'd instinctively save her first. Loved her so much that he'd ignore his own wounds. Loved her so much that he'd forget about me, his girlfriend of four years, and how badly I was hurt.

I tugged slightly at the corner of my lips, then lost consciousness as darkness swallowed everything.