The Betrayal Misread, The Years Lost

At dawn, Samson suddenly announced he was taking Judy to the beach for a vacation.

"You're coming with us, too."

When he spoke to me now, his tone made everything he said sound like an order. I had remembered all the times I had told him I wanted to see the ocean, but back then, we never had the money to go.

But this time…

"I can't go. The doctor said my knee can't get wet."

Samson frowned. "You don't get to choose."

In truth, it wasn't just about water. My knee hurt so much I could barely walk. Every step felt like torture to me.

But I knew Samson would never allow me to refuse.

In the end, he brought us all to the beach. The salty, damp wind brushed my face as I trailed far behind them, watching the two of them stroll hand in hand at sunset.

I never expected that Samson would suddenly turn around and pull a ring box from his pocket and drop to one knee before Judy.

I froze.

At that moment, brilliant fireworks exploded over the water, lighting up the beach under the setting sun. The tourists nearby all turned, cheering and showering them with rose petals.

I heard Judy sobbed with joy as she said, "I do!"

Then, I watched as Samson slid the ring onto her finger.

Samson had planned a flawless, romantic proposal for Judy. Everything was perfect, except for me standing awkwardly at a distance.

After the proposal, Samson threw a party on the beach.

They danced and laughed by the beach, surrounded by people. The entire time, Samson never let go of Judy's hand.

I found a folding chair far away from the crowd and sat down, staring out at the distant sea.

The last rays of sunlight slipped below the horizon, and night settled in.

Suddenly, a shout rang out, "Samson fell in! Somebody help him!"

I jumped, heart pounding, and looked toward the dark water.

I could barely make out a figure struggling in the waves by the light of a few flashlights.

"It's too dark! The waves are too rough! It's suicide to go down there right now!" someone shouted, and even the strongest men in the crowd shrank back.

I gritted my teeth, grabbed a life buoy, and dove in.

Swimming had been my passion for years. I had even won several competitions from high school through college. That was why I trusted myself in the water.

More than that, even if Samson and I had grown distant, I couldn't just stand by and watch him drown.

The icy water instantly enveloped me. The old wound on my knee felt like someone had just thrown a handful of salt on it, pain radiating through my whole body.

Still, I clung to the life buoy and swam for Samson with everything I had.

Just as my strength was giving out, I finally caught hold of his arm and dragged him back toward shore.

Once we hit the sand, guests rushed forward to pull us out. As soon as I felt solid ground, everything went black, and I lost consciousness.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed.

The doctor was scolding me. "I told you, you can't get that knee wet! You're lucky we got you here in time, or you could have lost your whole leg!"

The news was on, warning viewers not to swim at night as they covered last night's accident.

Before I had even fully come to, the broadcast cut to Judy and Samson. On camera, he thanked his fiancee with heartfelt emotion. Judy nestled shyly in his arms.

"Judy saved me twice," Samson said. "Five years ago, when I was attacked, she was the one who rescued me. And now, she risked her life and jumped into the sea for me. I've made up my mind. She's the one for me."

I could feel the anger inside of me bubbling as I clenched the sheets in my fists.

I was the one who saved Samson both five years ago and last night, but Judy had shamelessly claimed all the credit for herself.

I wondered if it was the physical pain in my knee or the pain of being wronged burning inside me, but tears rolled and fell from my eyes, dropping on the white sheets.

Through my blurred vision, I could still hear Samson's voice from the television.

"Our wedding will be next Friday, broadcast live for the world to see. I hope everyone can witness our happiest moment together."

A moment later, my phone buzzed with a message.

It was from Samson.

"Ran off again when I was in danger, huh? Coward. Next Friday, Judy and I are getting married. You'll be her bridesmaid. That's an order."

His tone was not one of discussion, but absolute command.

I stared at the screen for a long time, typing and deleting line after line. In the end, I sent nothing.

I never told him I wouldn't be there.

By next Friday, I would be leaving.