The crowd did not obstruct them. He gasped, heart racing, breath quickening as he pushed through the crowd. Never had he felt his hands tremble like this. Hope and fear battled within him, hope that he wouldn’t witness anything unbearable.
When he finally reached her, he froze for a moment. Her forehead was bleeding, and she sat slumped in a chair. Besides Melina, her friend pressed a cloth against the wound, trying desperately to stop the flow of blood.
“Ah… you’re here,” Melina murmured, her voice dazed, as if she had been waiting only for him.
Seeing her like this, a sharp pang tore through him. Without a second thought, he knelt before her.
“Open your eyes,” he said, his voice trembling with both fear and urgency.
He removed his shirt, revealing his bare chest, though he didn’t care. Sitting carefully beside her, he wrapped the cloth around her forehead with the utmost care. “We’re going to the hospital,” he said firmly.
“I don’t want to go… I’m fine,” she whispered, struggling to speak as her eyes fluttered, heavy with exhaustion.
“You’re okay. Just don’t pass out,” he urged, his voice gentle but resolute.
Lifting her effortlessly into his arms, he carried her toward the car. Johnny followed him closely, making sure they weren’t obstructed by the crowd. Every heartbeat, every trembling step reminded him of how fragile she was and how fiercely he needed to protect her.
“I’ll bring the car,” Johnny said urgently.
He brushed a gentle kiss against her forehead, but there was no response, almost as if she couldn’t feel it anymore.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered, his voice breaking.
“Why did you take off your shirt?” She asked weakly.
“For you,” he replied, hiding his tears.
“Come on,” Johnny called, pulling the car up beside them. He was already in the driver’s seat.
He opened the passenger door and sat inside, pulling her carefully onto his lap. He rested her head against his bare chest so she could feel safe in his arms, protected by his heartbeat.
“I’m in pain,” she whispered with difficulty, her voice trembling.
He placed his hand gently on her waist and kissed her forehead once more.
“If only I could take your pain away,” he said softly.
Then he noticed her eyes fluttering, her body growing heavier. She was losing consciousness.
Panic surged through him.
“Drive faster!” he shouted. “If anything happens to her, I swear I’ll burn the university to the ground!”
“Calm down,” his friend said firmly but encouragingly. “Keep her awake. Talk to her. Keep her active.”
And so he held her tighter, refusing to let her slip away.
He gently lifted her to the side, his hand trembling slightly. “Open your eyes, please… don’t faint. Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I can’t live without you.” Tears streamed down his face, splashing onto hers.
Slowly, she opened her eyes. With great effort, she raised her hand toward his neck. Seeing this, he immediately leaned forward, pressing his face against her neck. She kissed him softly and whispered, “Bye…”
And with that, she lost consciousness.
“No! Open your eyes! I won’t let you go!” He cried, his voice raw with anguish. He had never cried like this before. “How long… and hurry!” He shouted at his friend, forcing him forward. Johnny smiled faintly and, from the rearview, followed his instructions.
The car stopped, and before it had even come to a full halt, he flung open the door and dashed straight into the hospital. “Bring a stretcher, quickly!” He yelled, panicking in his voice.
A doctor nearby rushed over, seeing her bleeding profusely. “She’s losing a lot of blood,” the doctor said, concerned.
He helped place her gently on the stretcher. “Open your eyes, please,” he pleaded, his hands trembling. But she could no longer hear him. “Relax… everything will be fine,” the doctor soothed, patting his shoulder reassuringly.
He was crying as if grief had completely consumed him. Just moments ago, she had been smiling, full of life, and now she lay unconscious.
“She was so happy only a while ago… and now she isn’t even aware,” he said in a voice heavy with sorrow.
Suddenly, he stood up in anger and started to walk away.
“Where are you going?” his friend asked
“To the university,” he replied coldly.
“And what are you going to do there?” His friend pressed.
“What are you already thinking,” he said grimly.
“No, stop. I won’t let you go,” his friend said firmly.
“If you’re truly my best friend,” he continued, holding his arm, “then you’ll stay here and wait for me. If anything happens, call me.”
Before he could say another word, he turned and disappeared from his sight, moving too fast to stop.
A car screeched to a halt in front of the university gates. It was his car.
He stepped out slowly.
“Today, I won’t spare anyone,” he muttered.
His eyes were burning red with rage. His hands were stained with her blood, the same blood he had left behind at the hospital, where she lay in critical condition. He stared at his blood-soaked hands, then brought them to his lips and kissed them before moving forward.
There was no shirt on his body.
With every step he took, his anger grew stronger, heavier, and more dangerous.
“I need a bat,” he said to a group of boys who were playing nearby. Seeing the fury in his eyes, they handed it to him without a word.
Bat in hand, he walked straight toward the stadium court.
The stadium was still crowded.
He let out a cold smile.
“Now,” he whispered, “this will be even more interesting.”
They were laughing as if some long-awaited wish had finally been fulfilled.
Suddenly, their leader’s eyes fell on him, and the laughter died instantly. Alertness spread among them like wildfires.
“Look… he’s coming,” the leader said sharply.
“Who?” one of the members asked casually, turning around.
Zosh, the leader, said in a frightened voice.
“I’ll be the one to silence that laughter of yours,” he growled.
Bat clenched tightly in his hand; he stepped forward. The entire stadium fell into an eerie silence, as if a match were about to begin again, yet no one could have guessed what was truly coming.
Before anyone could react, he stood right in front of them.
“I knew you’d pull something like this, you lowlife,” he said coldly.
“What are you talking about? What have I done?” The leader replied, raising an eyebrow at his teammates before looking back at him with false innocence.
That was it.
The words pushed his rage beyond control, straight to the seventh sky. His jaw tightened, his grip on the bat hardened, and the surrounding silence grew heavier than ever.
Something terrible was about to happen.
“I’ll show you right now,” he said.
With those words, he let the bat slip from his hand and walked straight into the center of the stadium. The football lay there, abandoned. He picked it up and hurled it forward, but before it could go far, he stepped in its path.
He shouted, his voice echoing through the silent arena,
“I forgot to score my goal before leaving. I’ve come back to finish that.”
The leader’s confidence faltered. For the first time, uncertainty flickered across his face. He had no idea what was about to happen.
He tossed the ball into the air.
In the very next second, he leapt after it, twisting his body midair in a powerful flip. The force behind the kick was terrifying, so intense it felt as though it could tear through iron itself.
The ball struck him straight in the stomach.
The impact sent him flying backward until his body crashed violently into the stadium border. He collapsed there, wounded and breathless, as shock rippled through the crowd.
The stadium, once loud with laughter, now stood frozen in silence.
After dealing with him, he turned toward the football pitch.
“Goal!” he shouted.
Chaos erupted.
The stadium exploded into screams and panic. People began running in every direction. Some of the leader’s teammates and spectators rushed toward the fallen man to help him.
The university was plunged into confusion.
“Catch him! Don’t let him escape!” one of them yelled.
But it was too late.
“He’s gone,” a student said breathlessly.
He was driving at full speed along the deserted road; the engine roared beneath his control. Rage still burned inside him, but beneath it lurked a crushing guilt, one that gnawed at his heart relentlessly.
Just then, his phone rang.
The moment he answered it; his anger melted into a sharp panic.
“Hello?” He said tensely.
“Where are you?” His friend asked urgently. “There’s a problem.”
“She’s okay, right?” He blurted out before the sentence could even finish.
“No,” his friend replied grimly. “She’s in critical condition. The doctors say her body has lost too much blood. She needs blood urgently.”
“Then why are you there?” He snapped in frustration. “Give her your blood!”
“I’ve already been tested,” his friend said quietly. “My blood group doesn’t match hers.”
“I’m coming,” he said immediately, his voice tight with fear.
He ended the call, and the tension inside him multiplied. His heartbeat raced uncontrollably, pounding against his chest. He tried to steady himself, to regain control, but rage and fear had taken over together, crashing through him like a storm he could no longer stop.
Her breathing continued, yet her body lay motionless on the bed. The room was utterly silent; the only sounds were the steady beeps of the machines surrounding her. Suddenly, a man entered the room. He was tall and strikingly handsome, a young man whose beautiful eyes shimmered softly. His glossy, jet-black curls brushed against his eyes. He wore a white coat and a white mask, making him look like a doctor who had come to examine his patients.
He moved closer to her and stopped beside the bed. Pulling a nearby chair toward himself, he sat down. He watched her with an intense gaze, as if he knew her deeply, and yet he appeared completely fearless; the thought of being seen did not concern him at all. Slowly, he extended his right hand toward her and gently held it.
He did not speak. He only looked at her, feeling her presence. As his hand wrapped around hers, her fingers began to stir. It was as if life flowed back into her through his touch. With great difficulty, she tried to open her eyes, waking from a heavy, distant sleep. Her vision was blurred; she could only sense that someone was there, though she could not see clearly.
“Is… is that you?” She asked; her voice was weak and broken.
“What happened to me?” She whispered, but he remained silent.
Leaning closer, he brought his face near hers and kissed her forehead with deep tenderness. Then he reached into his pocket, took out a small bottle filled with red liquid, and placed it gently on the table beside her bed.
He looked at her as if he wished to stay closer to her, yet for now, she was beyond his reach. It felt as though this brief glimpse of her had been granted to him with great difficulty, as if he had waited years for this very moment. Tears shimmered in his eyes, as though his heart itself was crying. There was so much he wanted to say, but the time was not right.
He turned to leave, but suddenly the sound of approaching footsteps echoed toward the room. Without hesitation, he slipped away and hid inside the washroom, his presence vanishing into the silence just as quietly as it had arrived.
The nurse entered the room and began checking her out. She was still examining the equipment when her eyes fell on the bottle. “What is this?” She murmured. “Oh, my God… this is a bottle of blood.” Her voice carried surprise and concern. “Who placed this here?” She wondered aloud. Then she sighed in relief. “Thank God if the staff had seen this, I would have been scolded. Someone must have donated it for her.” She shook her head slightly. “I should inform the doctor immediately.”
Hearing this, he grew uneasy. He knew that before the doctor arrived, he had to leave this place. Swiftly, he stepped out of the washroom and went to her side. He gently kissed her hand and then her forehead, preparing to leave.
Just then, she suddenly caught a hold of his hand.
“I know who you are,” she said.44Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPwAI1vIHpN
and then Add to home screen.