No Longer Your Shadow

I never expected that I would still be alive after that.

When I regained consciousness, the smell of antiseptic stung my nose, and all I could see was the white ceiling of the hospital room.

A gentle male voice sounded near my ear. "How are you feeling?"

Absolutely awful. That was what I wanted to say, but my throat hurt so badly I couldn't get a single word out. It felt like knives were scraping against my throat.

As I forced my eyes to stay open, I caught sight of a hazy figure in a white coat.

For some reason, the first thing I noticed was his hand. He had long and flawless fingers, and his knuckles were well-defined.

I was sure I had seen those hands somewhere before. Nevertheless, I was too drained to think and soon slipped back into unconsciousness.

For a long time after that, I drifted in and out of sleep. Days had gone by before I finally woke up for good.

There was no one by my side, but a note and some pills had been left on the bedside table.

The note read, "Be sure to take your medicine. I'll be back soon." Below it were the dosage instructions and precautions.

The handwriting looked familiar. Even so, I didn't dwell on it and took the medicine as instructed.

As I turned on my phone, I was shocked by the sheer number of notifications. There were thousands of messages and more than a hundred missed calls, all from the same person—Thomas.

He'd assumed I would swim back up on my own after I fell into the water that day, but when he couldn't find me anywhere, he began to panic.

He quickly had people look for me, but the search yielded nothing. Then, he had the man-made lake drained. Only after confirming that I hadn't drowned in it did he finally breathe a sigh of relief. However, I was still nowhere to be found.

He called me countless times and sent message after message, his tone in them gradually shifting from haughty anger to outright panic.

As I was reading through the messages, another call came in.

"Hello?"

The moment the caller heard my voice, his breathing turned sharp and ragged.

"Winnie? Where the hell have you been? Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you? Why is there nothing in your room but that necklace? What's the meaning of this? The house has been a mess since you left, and Robin hasn't had anyone looking after him!"

It had been two weeks since then, and for some reason, Thomas' voice sounded strangely hoarse.

I listened quietly as he vented all his anger. Only after he finished did I finally speak in a cold voice. "Why? It's because you and I are done, Thomas."