ManyWriters

Twelve years ago, I was stabbed by one of Zoran's admirers, leaving me unable to bear children for life.
Zoran knelt by my hospital bed, crying as he vowed to love me with his life forever.
"Fallon, I'm already thankful to heaven that you survived..."
"From now on, I will never let anyone hurt you again."
Twelve years later, Zoran pinned that former admirer beneath him:
"Aria, will you have a child with me?"
I laughed bitterly at myself, went home and trashed Zoran's bedroom, accidentally discovering his old diary.
In anger, I wrote: "Zoran! I hate you!"
Unexpectedly, a sentence appeared out of thin air: "Who are you? I don't care who hates me except Fallon."
For a moment, I forgot my fear and wrote stroke by stroke: "I am Fallon."

My Tears, Your Trophy

At 31, Zoran saw his 18-year-old self, and it was as if lightning had struck him.


His face turned pale, and the hand holding the knife trembled with fear until a loud "clang" was heard.


The knife slipped from his grasp, and 31-year-old Zoran fell back onto the ground, terrified.


He stared at his 18-year-old self in horror, his voice stammering:


18-year-old Zoran ignored him, instead turning to me with a smile.


It was reassuring and gentle, albeit a bit weak.


"Fallon," he said softly, "don't be afraid, I'll protect you."


His figure slowly faded away, leaving me standing there in a daze.


Aria's voice snapped me back to reality.


She pointed at Zoran's palm, her face filled with terror as she stuttered:


"Zoran! Zoran! Your hand... how did you get that scar!?"


31-year-old Zoran was startled at first, then quickly examined his hands.


"No, impossible! Why do I have a new scar on my hand?"


Chapter 6