A Season Without Her

Chapter 6 The Fall

"Ah!"

A sudden wave of dizziness struck her. Before Cynthia could steady herself, her foot slipped, and she tumbled down the staircase. She hit the ground hard, pain bursting through her entire body.

At the top of the stairs, Chloe froze, her voice trembling with feigned panic.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to…"

The crash brought Ryan running out of the room. Without hesitation, he reached Chloe first, grabbing her shoulders as he checked her over.

"Chloe, are you alright?" he asked, but his eyes lingered on Chloe. "Did you get hurt anywhere?"

Chloe shook her head weakly and pointed toward the bottom of the stairs.

"I'm fine… but Cynthia…"

Only then did Ryan look down and notice Cynthia lying motionless near the corner, blood trickling down her forehead.

His expression shifted. He hurried downstairs.

"Are you okay? Can you move?"

Cynthia had seen everything clearly. There had been no accident. The cold in her chest spread outward. She pushed his hand away.

"I don't need you. Get lost."

"Stop being stubborn. I'll take you to the hospital."

He bent down, about to lift her, when Chloe suddenly swayed and clutched her head.

"Ryan… my head hurts… I feel awful…"

Ryan looked from one woman to the other. His hesitation lasted only a second.

In the end, he chose Chloe.

"You wait here. The ambulance will be here soon. Besides, you said you didn't need me."

He turned back to Chloe without another word.

Cynthia tried to stand on her own, but the blood flowing into her eyes blurred her vision. The hallway tilted violently around her.

Darkness swallowed everything.

When Cynthia regained consciousness, she was already in a hospital room. She had no idea how long she had been out. The door opened just as she forced her eyes fully open, and Ryan walked in.

He carried a bowl of porridge and set it on the bedside table.

"I bought this for you. Eat it while it's hot."

Cynthia lifted her hand and knocked the bowl away.

The thick liquid splashed across the floor.

Ryan frowned. "What's wrong with you?"

"I'm allergic to seafood. Don't you remember?"

He fell silent for a moment. "Sorry. Work has been busy. I forgot."

The apology sounded casual, almost perfunctory.

The thought of the three hundred thousand words he had written for Chloe made nausea rise in her throat.

"You don't need to explain. I've already decided to cancel the engagement. This is…"

She reached for the invitation she had prepared in advance, but before she could take it out, his phone rang.

It was Chloe.

"Ryan, your jacket is still here. I don't have time to bring it to you. Come get it yourself."

Ryan's voice softened instantly. "Alright. I'll come now."

After hanging up, he looked at Cynthia with cool detachment.

"If you really want to cancel the engagement, go ahead. I never begged you to like me. Don't think you can use that to threaten me."

He turned and left without looking back.

Cynthia stared at the engagement cancellation letter still in her hand. A laugh escaped her—shaky and hollow—until tears blurred her vision.

It no longer mattered.

In one week, she would be gone anyway.

The next day, Cynthia completed the discharge procedures herself and left the hospital.

The turmoil in her chest refused to settle. Without thinking, she walked into a bar and sat alone in a corner, drinking in silence.

She was halfway through her second glass when a sharp scream burst from one of the private rooms.

The sound made her look up. What she saw next etched itself into her memory.

Ryan stood in the center of the room, his face dark with fury. In his hand was a heavy glass bottle.

He swung it without hesitation, smashing it against another man's head.

The bottle shattered. Gasps filled the room.

Ryan's eyes were filled with a savage coldness Cynthia had never seen before. Ignoring the man's desperate pleas, he kept striking him again and again until blood covered the man's face and his body collapsed to the floor, unmoving.

Cynthia was still trying to process what she was seeing when Ryan stepped over the broken glass and the unconscious man.

He walked straight to Chloe, who was curled up in the corner.

It was the first time Cynthia had ever seen him lose control over something unrelated to work.

The man who had always been calm and composed had completely unraveled because of Chloe.

Bitterness spread slowly through her chest. So, she had never truly mattered.

And yet, the image of the boy who had once stood in front of her nine years ago remained painfully clear.

Had she been loving the wrong person all along?