Maya gazed at them, her eyes vacant and hollow.

"You used to hold family obligation over my head," she said, her voice soft but piercing. "And now? You’ve switched to guilt?"

"Every bit of your love went to Alexandria. Now that you’re feeling a little regret, you expect me to come crawling back?"

She laughed, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

"It’s too late. The moment you turned your back on me, you lost the right to call yourselves my parents."

"That letter of estrangement was the last shred of dignity I had left."

"Leave me alone."

She turned and slammed the door on their frantic, desperate pleas.

Leaning against the cold wood, she slid to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. She didn't make a sound; only the rhythmic, silent trembling of her shoulders gave her away.

It wasn't that it didn't hurt.

The wound had simply festered and rotted years ago. It was beyond saving.

Four months later, spring hit Montreal.

Maya’s life had settled into a rhythm. She was fluent in French, had landed a solid translation job, and the ghost of a smile occasionally touched her face.

She and Ishaan Montgomery had grown closer. Dinners, gallery openings—he looked at her with a gentle, focused devotion that made her feel truly seen.

Callahan Meyer watched from the shadows, his composure unraveling, though he didn't dare approach.

Then, the call came. An associate, panic-stricken: "Callahan, your ex-fiancée—I think she’s about to get engaged!"

The restraint Callahan had been clinging to snapped.

He rushed to the riverside restaurant, arriving just in time to see Ishaan holding her hand, both of them beaming.

The world narrowed down to that one agonizing sight.

He charged over, shoving Ishaan aside, eyes bloodshot as he glared at Maya. "You’re going to marry him?"

Maya frowned, backing away. "That’s none of your business."

"None of my business?" Callahan let out a jagged, humorless laugh. "You’re still my fiancée to everyone who matters."

"We’re over."

"I never agreed to that!" he roared, grabbing her arm to drag her away.

Ishaan stepped in, but Callahan met him with a brutal punch.

The two men grappled by the riverbank. Callahan fought with an unhinged, reckless intensity, landing blow after blow until Ishaan went limp on the pavement.

Callahan dragged Maya to the river railing. Night had fallen; the water below was pitch-black and freezing.

"If I died," he said, staring into her cold eyes, a shattered, manic smile on his face, "would you finally forgive me?"

"No," she replied, her voice dead. "If you died, I’d only feel relieved."

"Fine." Callahan nodded, his expression resolute. "Then what if I died *for* you?"

Before the words faded, he pivoted over the railing and dove into the icy St. Lawrence River.

"Callahan!"

Maya’s pupils constricted. She lunged for the railing, but nothing but ripples broke the surface of the black water.

An icy dread washed over her. She reached for her phone to call 911, but her fingers were too stiff to move.

"Maya..."

A weak voice drifted up from below.

Callahan was clinging to a bridge pier, half-submerged in the freezing current, his face ghastly white in the moonlight.

"See? I can die for you."

"You’re insane! Get out of there!" she screamed down at him.

"Grant me your forgiveness, and I’ll come up."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Yes," he spat, his voice shaking—whether from the cold or the desperation, she couldn't tell. "Maya Cole, I’m threatening you with my life. Either forgive me, or let me go."

The river surged violently. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the concrete.

"Get up here! I won’t call the police!"

"I want your forgiveness."

"Impossible!"

Callahan smiled—a look that, in the dim light, appeared both bleak and deranged.

"Then forget it."

He let go, his body falling backward into the dark, churning water.

"In the next life, I’ll make sure to treat you better."

Maya leaned over the railing, staring into the darkness that had swallowed him whole. Her blood ran cold.

Time stood still. Only the sound of the rushing river remained.

A few seconds later, she whirled around, stumbling toward the unconscious Ishaan. She snatched up his dropped phone and, with shaking fingers, dialed for an ambulance.

From start to finish, she never looked at the river again.

The sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder.

She did not turn back.