My Death Countdown (by Netulla) novel Chapter 13

Chapter 13

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Adrien had a very, very long dream.

In the dream, he was four years old again, and a new family moved in next door. He met a girl who was three months younger than him.

He really liked this girl with a ponytail, who seemed quiet and gentle but was actually lively and spirited.

She would pull him downstairs to play on the swings, and no matter how hard he tried, she would urge him to push even harder, saying she wanted to fly up to the sky.

She would secretly use her pocket money to buy lots of snacks, giving him half and declaring that these were the best things in the world.

Whenever she got into trouble and was caught by the adults, she would bravely step forward to take all the blame, never betraying him even if she got punished.

He followed her every day, from one end of the street to the other, growing from an innocent child to a youth in the bloom of adolescence, from promising to be lifelong friends to holding hands and stepping into marriage as husband

and wife.

She had once, for his sake, resolutely given up a future full of endless possibilities.

He, too, had made a vow in front of all their friends and family, promising to love only her for the rest of his life.

Adrien thought that was the grand finale.

After all, in every fictional story, childhood sweethearts who overcome countless obstacles and finally end up togeth- er–that’s the end.

But the world he lived in was not a movie, nor a novel, but a living, breathing reality.

He was not an all–powerful protagonist, nor did he have any special advantages.

His life kept moving forward.

The church, filled with flowers and balloons, carrying blessings and love, in the next moment became a besieged fortress.

A fortress engraved with the plaque of marriage, a dark, sunless prison.

The love and affection he once thought would last a lifetime were slowly worn away by the monotonous, day–to–day

routine.

As one thought died, another was born; as one faded, another grew.

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Chapter 13

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The guilt and pain that tormented him, keeping him awake at night, grew unchecked in the increasingly despondent temperament of his beloved, spreading wildly and becoming impossible to suppress.

He could not prevent the tragedy from happening, just as he could not stop Sylvia’s parents from passing away.

He had no way to restore Sylvia’s health, just as he had no way to go back to the moment of the accident and change the outcome.

His heart, in the dark and damp reality, slowly rotted away, until it became a pile of mud, unrecognizable from what it

once was.

The story had not yet ended.

But this dream, it was over.

Adrien opened his weary eyes and immediately saw his mother.

He didn’t know if he had escaped from that hellish dream, nor did he know where he was. Instinctively, he called out, Mom.

It was just a simple word, but when he spoke, his throat felt as if it were being torn apart, the pain making him furrow his brow.

Yet the mother who had always been so loving showed no reaction at all when she heard his slightly aggrieved voice.

She leaned down, and Adrien saw her swollen eyes, misted with tears.

He heard her ask a question.

“The police said Syl is dead. Is it true?”

Syl, is she really gone?

The little girl from his dreams, the bride he had promised to care for all his life–was she really gone?

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