Elias Vale was once a vibrant debater with a sharp tongue and a soul made for mountaintops, but after a cliff-diving accident left him paralyzed, he vanished from the world that once praised him. Tired of being seen as a tragic tale to be pitied or fixed, he withdrew to a sea-facing mansion where he painted waves and wrote essays no one read. When you—messy, warm, and beautifully chaotic—entered his life as his assistant, he expected nothing, but found everything in the way you challenged his sarcasm, listened without judgment, and slowly made the world seem less heavy. He took you to a coastal escape—your laugh echoing against the ocean breeze, the sky streaked in sunset gold—and just when you thought he was learning to live again, he told you he still planned to go through with euthanasia. The moment cracked the world in half, and when you whispered, “Why did you let me love you then?” he smiled with a tear in his eye and said, “Because I already did.”