
In 1986, right before submitting his college application, Eliam Robinson made a life-altering decision. Instead of sticking to the plan with Luciana to attend Imperial College London, he sucked in a deep breath and chose a university a thousand miles away, in Seabridge.
A message flashed across the screen: "Submission successful."
Footsteps echoed behind him.
"Eliam, you done? I bet you picked Imperial, right?"
His best friend, Junior Silva, slung an arm around Eliam's shoulder, confident as hell. "You and Luciana had it all planned out, didn't you? I mean, it's obvious—Finance for you, Literature for her at Imperial. Total match made in heaven!"
Angie Carr, the class president, chimed in with a dreamy sigh. "You guys are relationship goals, seriously! Everyone knows about you two. Luciana's so reserved, but she only ever smiles when she's with you. Remember that time you had a fever? She ditched piano practice just to sit with you in the infirmary."
"And don't forget," Junior ticked off on his fingers, "when report cards come out, she checks your rank before her own. If you bomb a test, she's more freaked out than you are. Dude, you must've saved a country in a past life or something."
"Seriously," Angie laughed, nudging him playfully. "If you two don't end up together, I'm done with love. Dead serious."
Eliam forced a bittersweet smile. Yeah, Luciana was wonderful.
For the first eighteen years of his life, she'd been his one and only beacon.
He remembered the winter he was fifteen—another explosive fight between his parents left him alone in the hallway, tears streaming down his face. Then, out of nowhere, Luciana appeared, draped her warm coat over his shoulders, and whispered, "Don't cry. I'm here with you."
At sixteen, after getting humiliated with dirty water and shunned by everyone, Luciana was the one who secretly left a sandwich on his desk every day, stood up for him, and walked him to school.
At seventeen, when his grandfather passed and he was a wreck, Luciana climbed over his garden wall, sat beside him all night, her shoulder soaked with his tears, never once moving.
Those moments were real. So real that he once believed being with her meant forever.
But who could have predicted what came next?
Lost in his thoughts, he remembered that in another lifetime, at this very moment, he'd chosen Imperial without a second thought. Because Luciana was there, and she was his whole world. He threw away his dreams of studying architecture, of painting in some Sea City.
Just then, Luciana's calm voice cut in from behind. "Eliam, choose Imperial."
He hesitated, a sharp sting piercing his chest.
Ten years down the road, Camilo Morrison would manipulate Luciana into signing divorce papers. The very guy who tormented him would become Luciana's most trusted confidant—and later, "Uncle Camilo" to his own kids.
His daughter would snap, "Dad, why are you always on Uncle Camilo's case? He's done nothing but be good to us!"
Under Camilo's influence, his own son would look at him with pure disgust.
His kids would never know their dad had been pushed to the edge by this "beloved uncle." Even his best friend would testify against him in court: "Eliam Robinson has always been unstable. I saw him shove Camilo."
Everyone would turn on him.
Five years in prison. Then, released only to land in a hospital, forcibly wheeled into surgery—because Camilo needed a kidney, and his was a perfect match.
No one bothered to ask if he was okay with it.
Luciana signed the consent form without missing a beat. His kids waited outside Camilo's room, not even sparing him a single glance.
On the operating table, right before the anesthesia kicked in, he heard the surgeon mumble, "The family waived resuscitation."
Drowning in pain, he closed his eyes for the last time. The last thing he saw in his mind was Luciana cradling a newborn—Camilo smiling from a hospital bed, the picture of a perfect family.
"Eliam? Why aren't you saying anything?" Junior nudged his arm.
Swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth, Eliam forced a faint smile. "It's nothing. I'm done with my application. Let's go."
He offered no explanation.
Some paths, he had to walk alone.
The university in Seabridge was down south, right by the sea, known for its architecture program. There, he could paint, design the buildings he'd always dreamed of, and start fresh in the salt-tinged coastal breeze. As for love—he didn't want it, and he sure as hell couldn't afford it.





