Chapter 8

In those days, I sobbed uncontrollably, consumed by remorse and self-reproach.

Zachary, however, gently brushed my tears aside and flashed a carefree grin.

"It's no big deal," he remarked, dismissively. "Just a mark. Doesn't diminish my good looks."

My weeping intensified. "Is it painful?"

My distress caused him to become flustered. He gestured frantically, saying, "Not at all. It doesn't hurt even slightly. Please, stop crying. I implore you—your tears cause me immense anguish..."

That was the Zachary I once knew—the lad who would unhesitatingly rush into a blazing structure to rescue me.

Now, though, he would perform such feats for another. And that individual was no longer me.

In later years, Zachary—the charmed youth with the seemingly perfect existence—lost it all in an instant. His family disintegrated, their wealth vanished, leaving him submerged in debt. The world he had known crumbled, and he found himself amidst the debris.