Return to 18 Chapter 6

Marcus suddenly lifted his foot and stepped on her mouth. Sophie finally quieted down. Surrounding people's discussions arose.

Marcus called someone to come, openly and brazenly covering her mouth and dragging Sophie away.

After handling everything, he seemed to remember I was still there watching, and slowly knelt at my feet in front of everyone, pleading: "Lily, give me a chance to talk."

My heart inexplicably ached again.

Angry and resentful.

Why was it the twenty-eight-year-old disgusting Marcus who did those things?

But the eighteen-year-old Marcus, who was so devoted to me, had to bear all the pain?

The one who should die was the twenty-eight-year-old him.

"Lily, you can't be so unfair to me."

I didn't answer. Marcus followed me home on his own, coughing constantly along the way.

I opened the door to let him in.

Walking to the study—this was my first time entering his study since we started divorce proceedings.

I could imagine with my eyes closed what had happened here.

Marcus's lips were pale, looking at the wrinkled sheets and murmuring: "Why... Lily."

Suddenly he picked up the fruit knife on the desk and cut at himself. Blood instantly splattered.

I stepped back in fright.

Marcus's face was deathly pale, his body swaying, yet he still smiled gently at me: "Lily, things I can't control are better discarded."

I froze, not knowing what the conscious Marcus would do.

But my heart felt satisfied.

Marcus collapsed from the pain, yet still seeming unsatisfied, took the knife and sliced his own skin inch by inch: "Dirty. Lily is disgusted."

I closed my eyes and scolded him: "Marcus, stop going crazy."

The second time I called 911 for him.

Not for anything else, but afraid he'd bleed out and die, making me the prime suspect.

Marcus was carried to the hospital by ambulance. All along the way, he struggled desperately, continuously apologizing to me.

Even after arriving at the hospital, some functions were permanently lost.

Learning this news, Marcus smiled very calmly, as if relieved: "Lily, now I'm not dirty anymore."

Hospital staff all sighed. Remembering when Marcus had stayed by my bedside and how loving we were, then seeing his current state.

The hospital kept 24-hour watch, afraid Marcus would think of committing suicide.

Even so, Marcus still cut his wrists at night, leaving a suicide note in blood: "Lily, if I kill the twenty-eight-year-old Marcus, can I return the eighteen-year-old Marcus to you?"

Hearing this news, I still couldn't control my tears.

Too late.

The eighteen-year-old Marcus was still a very, very good Marcus.

He was the young man who stood up for justice when seeing injustice.

He was the carefree youth in a white shirt holding a perfect test paper.

Eighteen-year-old Marcus went to a neighboring city for a physics competition. Even though he was a famous genius student, he still prepared day and night.

Boys had their pride—if he did it, he wanted to win first place.

And back then, I could never learn internal forces or external forces. The geography teacher called on me every class, then came endless scolding.

The class's terrible math scores, difficulties from both teachers and classmates.

Troubled interpersonal relationships.

The pressure made me cry night after night, but facing the prodigy Marcus, I couldn't say anything.