Chapter 1 Walked Into Death Smiling
When I lost my sight at six, I picked up a boy who was on the verge of freezing to death. His name was Zane Shaw.
I lied and said I wanted someone to guide me, begging my mother to save him. Later, I leaned close to his ear and whispered a promise.
"I don't need you to be my guide dog. Just live well. Go wherever you want."
But Zane stayed. After my mother remarried, he became the only person I could rely on. He watched over me as I grew up, becoming my white cane year after year.
For the sake of my eyes, he even gave up his extraordinary talent for painting and chose to study medicine instead. And yet, even after he became a top ophthalmologist, I still could not see.
Everything changed on my twenty-fifth birthday.
Zane's former confidante won a major art award. He locked himself in the study. The faint rustle of paper carried through the door.
When I asked, he suppressed his emotions and said he was writing me a birthday message.
Smiling, I stepped forward, wanting to kiss him.
Then, across the darkness in front of me, lines of text suddenly began to scroll.
[Wake up. He tore up all his paintings. On the back of every piece, he wrote "Yvonne should die".]
[Don't go forward. He placed a live wire ahead. Step on it and you're dead.]
I froze for a moment. Then I smiled and kept walking.
"Zane," I said softly, "your wishes will all come true." I moved carefully, afraid I might miss the wire.
"Yvonne!" Zane suddenly called my name. His voice trembled, thick with unshed emotion, as if he wanted to say more but couldn't.
Pretending not to notice anything, I spoke lightly, coaxing him as usual. "Is your head hurting again? Let me help you with it."
The comments flickered wildly.
[Stop! The wire is right in front of you!]
'Good. It's right there. I won't miss it.'
Just as I was about to step forward, the doorbell rang sharply. A chair scraped harshly against the floor.
"Watch out!" A strong force slammed into me, knocking me to the ground. My head rang, and for a moment, I couldn't gather my senses.
Zane helped me up with trembling hands. "Yvonne… I'm sorry. There was a live wire just now."
The comments exploded.
[So now you're shaking? Weren't you the one trying to kill her?]
My chest tightened.
'i***t. Why go soft now?'
Enduring the pain, I smiled gently at him. "It's my fault. I couldn't see it. I'm fine. It doesn't hurt."
The comments erupted again.
[She fell and still apologizes?]
But I knew. Right now, Zane was hurting more than I was.
I could hear the broken sound of his breathing. He seemed about to say something, but his phone rang.
A woman's voice came through.
"I know you're home. I won't leave unless I see you. Zane… just think of this as the last time I come."
I recognized the voice. It was Serena Vale, the gifted painter I had seen on television. She and Zane had met as volunteers, brought together by their shared love of art.
Zane once said he had found a kindred spirit.
Serena had once told me that Zane's paintings were the most alive she had ever seen.
But now, one had become a celebrated artist, while the other had become a doctor tied to a blind girl.
Zane never liked being a doctor. After every surgery, he would end up vomiting until he was barely conscious.
His grip on my hand suddenly tightened, then loosened just as abruptly. Without another word, he staggered toward the door.
