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.

Eliam Robinson pushed the front door open, and the overpowering reek of alcohol hit him like a freight train. On the couch lay a shadowy figure, surrounded by empty beer cans scattered across the floor. He moved quietly, trying to slip past, but the figure suddenly opened her eyes.

"Stop."

Eliam froze, his back stiffening.

Hadassah Robinson swayed as she tried to stand, her words slurring. "Did you finish your applications? What'd you pick? Oxford? Cambridge? I'm talking to you!"

"Cambridge."

Hadassah snorted, her expression turning sharp. "What good is that? A Cambridge degree won't make you rich. You have any idea how hard it is for me to pay for your school? Starting tomorrow, you're working at the factory, got it?"

Eliam's grip tightened on his backpack strap, his voice even. "I'm not going. I need to work on my portfolio over the summer."

"Portfolio?" Hadassah snatched up an empty can and hurled it at him, missing his head by inches. "You think you're some kind of artist? Get real! I'm telling you, either you get a job or you're out of this house!"

Eliam looked at her, her face bloated from drink, just like he remembered. In another life, he'd heard these exact words and, in a panic, had run to Luciana for refuge. She'd taken him into her tiny apartment, and for a while, he'd thought that was his salvation.

This time, he didn't cry.

"Fine. I'll move out."

He turned toward his cramped, cluttered room to pack. A few clothes, some art books, a box of pencils.

Hadassah stumbled after him, leaning against the doorframe, her words hard and cutting. "Move out? Where you gonna go? To that Washington girl? Look at her family, then look at ours. You chase after her, you'll end up tossed aside!"

Eliam's hands shook uncontrollably.

"Your mother did the same thing," Hadassah spat. "Chasing after your father, that broke, useless loser. And what happened? He bailed! Now you're doing it all over again, running after women without a shred of shame!"

Eliam stood in the dim room, each word a knife twisting deeper into his chest. He thought he'd built walls strong enough to take anything, but those words — 'tossed aside' — hit a deep nerve. Because he'd been discarded before. By a wife, by his children, by the whole damn world.

Frozen in place, his nails bit into his palms, eyes burning with tears he refused to let fall.

Just then, a voice came from behind.

"Mrs. Robinson, that's enough."

The voice was cold, like a blade of ice, yet every word was crisp and clear.

Eliam spun around.

Luciana stood in the doorway, her coat draped over her arm, hair tousled from the wind. The hallway light spilled around her, wrapping her in a soft halo, illuminating her fresh, determined face. Seventeen-year-old Luciana.

She threw a cautious glance at Eliam, her eyes full of care and understanding. Then she turned back, her gaze sharp and unwavering.

"He's not chasing anyone, and he's definitely not shameless," Luciana said, her voice calm but firm. "He's the best person I've ever known. You don't get to talk about him like that."

Eliam swallowed hard, his eyes stinging.

At fifteen, Luciana had stood up to Hadassah, fierce as anything. "Touch him again and you'll regret it."

At sixteen, when the homeroom teacher accused him of misconduct, Luciana had risen and said, "I pursued him. It's not his fault."

At seventeen, at his grandfather's funeral, with gossip buzzing all around, she'd protected him, confronting every whisper without a second thought.

Countless memories flooded his mind, each one a dull blade slicing into his heart.

He still loved her.

Even knowing how it would end, even after dying once on that operating table, his heart still raced at the sight of her — and broke all over again as she fought for him.

But this love hurt too much.

So much it nearly knocked him off his feet.

"Ha," Hadassah sneered, her face struggling to hold its composure. "You talk real big now, but one day you'll leave him too…"

"I won't." Luciana cut in, her voice soft yet unshakeable, holding a certainty far beyond her seventeen years.

Eliam squeezed his eyes shut, trying to suppress the ache tearing through his chest. He wanted to say something, but his throat was too tight, words refusing to come.

Suddenly, rapid footsteps pounded down the hall.

Junior Silva burst through the door, panicked. "Eliam, you in here? Something's happened! Something bad!"

Junior's voice trembled with urgency. "Camilo Morrison bombed his exams — his predicted grades are way below average. He's on the school roof, threatening to jump. Teachers, students, everyone's there, but he won't listen to a soul. He keeps asking for—"

Junior's eyes darted to Luciana.

"He wants you, Luciana. Says if you don't come, he's jumping."

Eliam felt the blood drain from his face.

"I'll go see him."

Luciana didn't hesitate. She spun around and ran for the door.

Eliam stood in the shadows, a storm raging inside his heart.

Eliam thought back over the hell he'd been through this past year. It was the third year Camilo Morrison had made his life miserable, and this one had been the worst by far.

Back when high school first started, Camilo had come up to him with this friendly smile, suggesting they be friends. Eliam, too naive to know better, had agreed.

The trouble started when his homework started getting mysteriously torn up, cockroaches turned up in his water bottle, and he got jumped in the bathrooms. Camilo and a couple of other guys pinned him to the cold tiled floor and yanked his hair, jeering, "You think just 'cause Luciana looked at you twice, you're suddenly something? You're not even good enough to tie her damn shoes."

His lip was split wide open, blood gushing down his chin.

Eliam went to a teacher, only to get the brush-off: "No evidence." When he turned to Luciana for help, she just frowned and said, "Camilo's not like that."

Camilo. She'd called him by his first name. Camilo. That stung more than anything.

After that, the torment got even worse.

That winter, someone soaked his school jacket in red ink and hung it way up on the flagpole. He had to stand out in the freezing wind for half the class in nothing but a thin shirt before he could find a spare. During gym, his sneakers disappeared. He had to run the half-mile barefoot. By the end, the soles of his feet were raw and bleeding. Right before exams, his study notes got ripped to shreds and tossed in the bathroom trash. He ended up on that filthy floor, trying to piece them back together.

The worst was when Camilo posted anonymously on the school forum, spreading the lie that Eliam had "slept his way to good grades." The rumor hung around for three days. Eliam couldn't escape the whispers and stares. He'd lie awake in his dorm at night, overhearing his roommates mutter, "If it's not true, why's he so defensive?"

That year, thoughts of ending it all crossed his mind more times than he could count. But he didn't go through with it. He kept clinging to those tiny scraps of kindness Luciana threw his way. They were like the thinnest threads, the only thing keeping him hanging on.

But now he saw the truth—those little kindnesses came while Luciana was already tangled up with Camilo. Even as she protected him from his drunk of a mother, she'd been busy "saving" Camilo on the side.

Eliam sank to the floor and buried his face in his knees. When his tears finally ran dry, his heart felt like a block of ice. Completely numb.

Half an hour later, he was packing up what little he had left, ready to go. Luciana was standing in the doorway, out of breath like she'd sprinted all the way there.

She grabbed Eliam's wrist, urgent. "Come with me."

The school entrance was pure chaos. In the distance, you could just make out a figure perched on the edge of the rooftop.

Luciana pulled him through the crowd, not letting go of his wrist until they got to the front.

That's when Eliam really looked at her—eyes rimmed with red, the veins stark against the whites, lips cracked and dry. The usually tough, rebellious girl looked completely wrecked.

"Eliam," her voice trembled, "I need a favor."

Eliam stayed quiet. He already knew what she was going to ask.

"Camilo… those forum posts—they're all over the school, the whole town. His reputation is destroyed, he bombed his exams, and he hasn't eaten in three days."

Luciana's frown deepened, worry swimming in her eyes. "The doctor says he's got acute stress disorder. This could destroy him."

She stepped closer, clutching Eliam's hand like it was the only thing keeping her upright. "I know he hurt you. I know everything now. But Eliam, please, can you just clear things up? Just say you didn't write those posts, and you're not going to do anything about it. So people will leave him alone. Just a few words, that's all."

Eliam looked into her eyes and saw the desperation there. It felt like his heart was being wrung out—the pain was sharp and real.

But he shook his head, firm and resolute. "No."

Luciana's face went blank with shock, then panic flickered in her eyes. She tightened her hold, her voice climbing with desperation, "Why not? It's just a few words! He's not even in your life anymore…"

"He bullied me for three years," Eliam cut in, his voice shaking. "He poured ink on my jacket, lied about me online, cornered me in bathrooms and beat the crap out of me… And now you want me to clear his name? Clear what? That none of it happened?"

From the rooftop, a shriek cut through the air. Someone yelled, "He's gonna jump!"

Luciana whipped around, all color draining from her face.

"Eliam, even if he was wrong," she begged, her lips trembling, "he's paid for it. He flunked his exams, he's falling apart, he's about to jump. Please, just let it go this once. I'm begging you. Just… spare him."

Spare him.

Tears spilled down Eliam's cheeks, catching him off guard.

When he was bullied, who spared him? When he was driven to the edge, who spoke up for him?

He yanked his hand back, his voice cracking. "No. I said no."

Luciana's expression shifted. She slowly released his hand and stepped away.

Then she reached up and unclasped the necklace she always wore. Eliam's eyes went wide with shock.