Chapter 32 up
Clark woke with a heavy head, his body weak, his stomach churning. Sunlight pierced through the thin curtains, but he barely noticed. For the past few days, he had lived in a dark cycle—drinking, sleeping, and drowning in pain that never subsided. His body had grown thinner, his cheeks hollow, his eyes endlessly puffy.
He tried to sit up, but his whole body shook. His hands trembled as he reached for a glass of water. His breaths were shallow, chest tight. Clark knew he couldn’t continue like this, yet every thought of Nyla brought guilt, jealousy, and loss that paralyzed him.
Across the city, Selena anxiously waited for a message from Clark. She assumed he would call after seeing Nyla working with Vincent—or after the video she sent had succeeded in angering Nyla. But the phone remained silent.
A flicker of worry stirred—not out of genuine concern, but because Clark was her tool to make Nyla jealous. Without him, her plan was incomplete.
Clark stared at the mirror in his room. He barely recognized himself. The eyes that had once been strong and confident now looked empty; his face pale and thin; his lips cracked from sleepless nights and alcohol. His hands trembled as he tried to comb his hair, his head light, almost dizzy.
“What have I done to myself?” he murmured, his voice broken.
He tried to stand, but his knees wobbled. His whole body felt weak, as if a weight pressed down on him. Cold sweat dampened his back. He tried to steady himself, but the world spun too fast.
And then, suddenly—without warning—Clark collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
Meanwhile, Selena received a call from a friend who knew about Clark’s condition. “Clark isn’t answering your messages, Selena,” the voice said. “He looks really bad. You need to get to his place immediately.”
Selena’s heart raced. Not because she cared for Clark, but because she feared losing control. If Clark fell and Nyla found out… it would ruin her plan. Wasting no time, she sped toward Clark’s apartment, her mind a mix of anger, anxiety, and manipulative strategy that had to continue.
At the apartment, Clark lay on the floor, his body trembling faintly. He barely breathed normally, his hands pressed against his hollow stomach. He felt weak, broken, and helpless.
Selena rushed inside, taking in the scene, and immediately shifted into a perfect act of concern. “Clark! Clark, wake up! What are you doing to yourself?” she cried, her voice panicked but controlled.
Clark didn’t respond.
Selena heightened the panic, tapping his face, trying to rouse him. “Clark, you need to wake up! Don’t make me have to help you!”
Clark opened his eyes briefly, seeing Selena in front of him. His gaze was empty, breath ragged. “I… don’t care… Nyla… she… she’s happy…” he muttered in broken gasps.
Selena bent down, taking his hand and squeezing it tightly, feigning sorrow. “Shh… don’t speak now. I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”
Clark glanced at her briefly, then closed his eyes again, exhausted and broken.
Selena knew this was a golden moment. She knew Clark was extremely fragile, and this was the time to truly instill dependence. She hurried to grab a blanket, covering his weakened body, holding his hand, and gazing into his half-open eyes.
“I won’t leave you, Clark,” Selena said softly. “I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Clark looked at her, his eyes empty but a small flicker of relief there—though it came from Selena’s manipulation. He faintly held her hand, more from exhaustion and loneliness than from affection.
Elsewhere, Nyla was attending an important meeting at Vincent’s office. She had no idea Clark was deteriorating. But she sensed something was wrong. Her intuition sharpened. She checked her phone, seeing the latest messages from Clark’s assistant: “Clark has collapsed. Please go to his apartment immediately.”
Nyla’s heart pounded. Without hesitation, she left the office, speeding toward Clark’s apartment, her mind a chaotic mix of anger, worry, and fear of being too late.
Clark still lay on the floor, his body trembling from alcohol and physical exhaustion. Selena continued staring at him with teary eyes, emphasizing her “concern,” pretending to cry as she watched him broken.
“Clark… you can’t be like this,” she whispered softly. “If you leave yourself like this, I won’t be able to forgive myself for not helping you.”
Clark closed his eyes, feeling a slight warmth from Selena’s attention—even if it was false. “I… don’t know… what to do…” he murmured, his voice almost fading.
Selena held her breath, smiling faintly to herself. She knew this was the moment when Clark was at his lowest, when he was fragile and easily influenced.
But elsewhere, Nyla raced her car as fast as possible. Every second felt agonizing. She knew Clark was fragile, and though she was angry at Selena, her heart still cared. She would not let Clark fall deeper into the abyss.
Finally, Nyla arrived at the apartment. She opened the door, seeing Clark lying on the floor, his body thin, breathing ragged, and Selena feigning panic beside him.
Without a word, Nyla bent down, checking on Clark, sensing the torrent of panic. “Clark! Clark, listen to me! You have to wake up!” she shouted, tapping his cheek gently but firmly.
Clark opened his eyes weakly. His gaze was empty, but when he saw Nyla, a small light flickered—a mix of relief, guilt, and recognition.
Selena stepped back slightly, her face tensing. Her plan to make Clark dependent on her began to crack, because Nyla had arrived as the savior—and Clark, though fragile, still looked at Nyla with respect and admiration that could not be erased.
“Don’t… leave me… alone…” Clark whispered weakly.
Nyla leaned closer, looking deeply into his eyes. “I won’t leave you. But you have to understand, Clark. You have to stop hurting yourself.”
Clark drew a long, trembling breath, his body shivering…