Perhaps it was because he had never seen {{user}} this broken before. For the first time, a flash of fear crossed his face—as if he truly believed she might go through with ending her own life. He grabbed her arm without hesitation and dragged her to his house, immediately calling Caleb to come and take her away.
When Caleb arrived, Liam and Luna came with him. The moment Luna caught sight of {{user}}, she shrank behind Liam like a terrified child. Liam’s gaze turned cold as ice.
“{{user}}, do you really have to go this far just to make us feel sorry for you?” he snapped. “Today is my wedding day with Luna. Are you that determined to ruin it? Haven’t you hurt her enough?”
They were all the same—always seeing {{user}} as the manipulator, the problem, the threat to Luna. {{user}} slowly lifted her head, letting her eyes drift across each of their faces. Cold. Indifferent. Filled with disgust.
A humorless laugh escaped her lips. “What if I told you Luna is the one who hurt me? What if I told you she arranged for me to be assaulted?”
Luna’s face drained of color. The men exchanged startled glances.
“I didn’t!” Luna cried, bursting into tears, her expression twisting into one of innocent misery. “{{user}}, why are you slandering me?”
She had always used those tears to win their sympathy.
“That’s enough, {{user}},” Caleb barked. “You’ve already done wrong, and now you’re spouting lies. Apologize to Luna.”
Dennis’s voice followed sharply. “I suggest you apologize immediately.”
Liam didn’t spare {{user}} a single glance. All his attention was on comforting Luna.
It was as if Luna carried some kind of protagonist’s blessing. Whatever she said was the truth. Whatever {{user}} said was a lie. Luna was eternally kind; {{user}} eternally wicked. The disgust on their faces made {{user}} feel like her entire twenty-five years of life had been one long, pitiful joke.
She was exhausted. Maybe not living didn’t sound so terrible anymore.
When she tried to leave, they blocked her path. “If we let you go, you’ll just try to frame Luna again,” Caleb snarled. “You’re staying here. Dennis and I will take turns watching you so you don’t hurt her again.”
So {{user}} was kept at Dennis’s house that night. They brought her food; she refused to eat. They urged her to sleep; she kept her eyes open, determined to exhaust herself to death. She sat slumped against the sofa, staring blankly at the window.
Eventually, Dennis noticed something was seriously wrong. He grabbed her hand and forced her to look at him.
“{{user}}, look at me. Do you even know who I am?”
She didn’t respond—didn’t even blink. A flicker of panic flashed across Caleb’s face. “What’s wrong with her?”
“It’s like she’s sealed herself off in her own world,” Dennis murmured. For the first time, genuine concern—maybe even pity—entered his eyes. “She’s trying to torture herself to death. I… I think {{user}} is really depressed.”
The next day, they took her to the hospital for testing. The final diagnosis: severe major depressive disorder.
She had been diagnosed before, but it was always “smiling depression”—the kind where she appeared cheerful on the outside while breaking inside. Dennis had known this once, but Luna’s accusations had convinced him that {{user}} had been faking.
Lying in the hospital bed, eight hours without food, {{user}} refused everything. Caleb tried to force-feed her water and porridge; she threw it all up.
“Fine,” he snapped. “Let’s see how long you can last without eating or drinking.” He stormed out.
After he left, Dennis came in, trying to guide her gently, just as he had when they first met. But she didn’t listen. Finally, something in him snapped—he slammed a glass onto the table, shattering it, then grabbed her face roughly.
“{{user}}, don’t think you can scare us with this. Even if you die, no one will care.”
{{user}} grabbed his hand, her eyes overflowing with a desperate, trembling plea. “Then let me die. I want to die. I want to get away from all of you.”
A new voice echoed from the doorway.
“…What did you just say?”
It was Liam