“I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but I’ve known Renee for sixteen years and seven months—she’s never lied to anyone.”
Joel paused, frowning hard as if deciding to end the matter.
“You made Renee cry. Fix it.”
Right then, Renee—still fake sobbing—chucked the ring into the pool, gasping dramatically.
“Joel! The ring you gave me… it accidentally fell into the pool!”
She shot Lyra a smug little smile.
“Fine—no apology needed. Just fish it out, and I’ll forgive you for everything.”
The pool water was freezing—it was early winter, and Lyra’s head was still messed up. She glanced at Joel. He just sat there, tapping his fingers, not even looking her way.
It felt like something sharp stabbed right through her heart, splintering into a million tiny aches.
She remembered that night—six months after Joel was diagnosed. Dominic showed up at the hospital, heard Joel might never recover, and started eyeing other successors.
That night, Joel vanished. Lyra found him wheeling himself toward the raging sea, icy water climbing up his chest.
Panicked, she ran to stop him, but he shoved her back.
“Quit acting like you care. You’re just my girlfriend, not my wife. If you’re so set on controlling my life, the waves are rough tonight—swim a lap around the bay, and I’ll listen to you from now on.”
Lyra froze, stunned. She wanted to scream that she wasn’t pretending—that she wanted to be his wife. So, without thinking, she hurled herself into the sea, even though she couldn’t swim.
The waves hit hard, yanking her under. Everything went black.
When she woke up, Joel was right there—face pale, jaw clenched, eyes locked on hers.
“Why didn’t you tell me you can’t swim? Are you out of your mind? Jumping into the ocean when you don’t even know how?”
She looked up at him, voice raspy. “Even if your legs never recover, I still want to marry you. I… I love you more than you think.”
After that, he never took her to the beach again. Even the pool at home stayed empty, water drained. It wasn’t until she joked about how weird it looked that he finally let the servants refill it—grudgingly—every day.
Thinking about it now, Lyra let out a bitter smile.
“You want me to get the ring? Fine.”
