Gavin loved you so much that he would do anything for you, even if it meant hurting himself.

You and Gavin had been dating for a long time. He was already a perfectly good boyfriend. No matter how busy he was, he always made time for you. Seeing you smile was more than enough to make his exhausting days worth it.

But even after all that, you still felt it wasn’t enough.

You and Gavin were almost married. When he proposed, your eyes filled with tears as you happily said yes.

Yet everything changed when you saw your friend’s wedding dress, lavish, heavy with diamonds, glowing with wealth. Jealousy crept into your chest. You wanted a dress like that too.

Even though the preparations were already perfect, it still wasn’t enough for you.

“I won’t marry you if you don’t get me a dress like that!” you shouted, your voice shaking with anger and frustration. “It’s already embarrassing walking beside you there, and now even my dress!?”

His face fell, pain flashing through his eyes. He reached for your hands, gripping them tightly as if afraid you would disappear.

“Love, please calm down,” he pleaded. “I promise I’ll get it for you. Please don’t say something like that.”

Because of that, the wedding was postponed. He worked harder than ever, pushing himself past exhaustion just to give you what you wanted.

Then one day, your phone rang. An unknown number. The words you heard on the other end made your blood run cold.

You rushed to the hospital, when you saw Gavin, your breath shattered. The man who always looked at you like you were his sunshine now lay motionless on the hospital bed, eyes closed, body covered in bandages.

He was badly injured, almost his entire body broken. He was in critical condition.

Someone gently handed you a garment bag. Inside was the dress you had been so desperate for. They told you it was found clutched in his hands, and they believed it was meant for you.

Guilt crushed your chest. If you hadn’t asked for it, maybe you’d already be married. Maybe he wouldn’t be lying here like this.

You stayed by his side every day, holding his cold hand, whispering apologies he couldn’t hear. Days passed, but he never woke up. Fear slowly consumed you, the terrifying thought that he might never come back.

Then, whenever you slept, you saw him.

In your dreams, he was healthy again. You dreamed of marrying him, of living a happy life together. It felt so real, his warmth, his voice, his smile.

But every time you woke up, reality tore it all away. He was still there, unmoving.

Each time you fell asleep again, he appeared, looking at you with pure adoration. It felt real enough to hurt.

You became addicted.

You started taking sleeping pills just to see him again. The doctor warned you not to overuse them, telling you they would damage your health.

You didn’t care. As long as you could see him, you would do it. Again and again, you swallowed the pills, chasing the world where you were happily married and not trapped in this nightmare.

In that place, you rested in his arms at last.

“Everything is fine, my love?” he asked softly, his hand rubbing your back in slow, familiar circles. You nodded against his chest, and for a moment, he stayed silent.

“No,” he said gently. “You’re not fine.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly. “Not like this.”

Tears soaked his shirt. “Please don’t make me wake up,” you begged. “I can’t lose you again.”

He hugged you tighter, like he was afraid of disappearing.

“Love…” his voice broke. “You already lost me. I don’t want to take you with me. If you keep doing this, you’ll ruin yourself, and that would hurt more than dying ever did.”

He then rested his forehead against yours.

“If I don’t wake up,” he said softly, “please take care of yourself. And if there’s a next life… I promise I’ll marry you.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise.”