Ankhush was trapped in a whirlwind of terror and trauma, his body trembling as panic attacks struck him every few minutes. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, his chest tightening with every passing second.
His eyes remained glued to his phone screen, his hands clammy as he refreshed the page over and over again. He was waiting—desperately—for the next chapter of the novel to update. He needed to know. He had to know. What was going to happen next? What fate awaited him?
As the clock neared 7:25 AM, his phone buzzed repeatedly. Mansh was calling him—again and again. He knew. He knew exactly what state Ankhush was in.
Finally, at exactly 7:30 AM, the notification popped up on the WbNovel app—the new chapter had been published.
The moment Ankhush saw it, his heart lurched. Without thinking, he lunged for his phone, his hands trembling with urgency. But in his frantic haste, his foot slipped.
A sharp pain exploded in his skull as he crashed to the floor, his vision momentarily blurring. He groaned, clutching his head. The throbbing ache was unbearable, but he didn't care.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself up, snatched his phone from where it had fallen, and, without wasting another second, opened the novel. His eyes darted across the screen as he started reading.
The next chapter of the novel unfolds:
Kokoro was shattered. Completely broken.
The trauma of what had happened had hollowed her out, leaving nothing but a shell behind. The kidnapper had almost… almost violated her.
Now, she was like a living corpse, her soul seemingly detached from her body.
Nezumi, her closest friend, was painfully aware of Kokoro's suffering. She could see it in her vacant eyes, in the way she barely spoke anymore, in the way she flinched at even the slightest touch. Kokoro was drowning in the aftermath of what had nearly happened to her.
But Nezumi… she wasn't any better.
[But Ankhush couldn't bring himself to answer. His fingers hovered over the screen, frozen in place. His mind was drowning in fear, tangled in an endless loop of anxiety. The novel was all he could think about.]
She, too, was trapped—chained to the horrors of her own past. The incident with her mother played in an endless loop inside her mind, a nightmare she couldn't wake up from. The guilt clawed at her, whispering that she should've done something, that she should've been stronger, that she had failed.
Her chest felt tight, suffocating.
Nezumi clenched her fists.
Nezumi (thinking): Why is this happening to me? Why me?
Her thoughts spiraled, suffocating her in uncertainty.
What should I do? Should I focus on helping Kokoro cope with her trauma… or should I finally face the nightmares of what happened to my mother?
Nezumi's mind raced, a storm of emotions threatening to consume her. The weight of her own trauma pressed heavily on her chest, but she forced herself to push it aside. Kokoro needed her.
She had to be strong—for Kokoro's sake.
Determined, she pulled out her phone and dialed Kokoro's number. The call rang once. Twice. No answer.
Her grip on the phone tightened.
Nezumi (thinking): Why isn't she picking up?
A sense of unease crept over her. Without wasting another second, she turned and started running.
Kokoro's house wasn't too far. If she hurried, she could—
She came to an abrupt stop.
Up ahead, she spotted a familiar figure wandering aimlessly down the road.
Nezumi's stomach twisted at the sight.
Kokoro looked… lost. Her posture was sluggish, her eyes vacant, as if she wasn't truly there. She drifted forward, oblivious to everything around her.
Nezumi's heart clenched.
Taking a deep breath, she called out—her voice gentle, yet firm.
"Hi… It's me, Nezumi."
Nezumi's blood ran cold.
The truck was hurtling forward, its roaring engine drowning out every other sound. Kokoro was completely unaware—lost in her own world, trapped in the aftermath of her trauma.
She wasn't moving.
Panic surged through Nezumi's veins.
"LOOK BEHIND YOU! A TRUCK!" she screamed, her voice raw with desperation.
But Kokoro didn't react. She didn't even flinch.
Nezumi's heart pounded violently against her ribs. There was no time to think.
Her body moved on instinct.
With every ounce of strength she had, she lunged forward, sprinting toward Kokoro with everything she could muster. The world blurred around her—nothing else mattered.
Just as the truck's blinding headlights filled her vision, she reached Kokoro and shoved her aside.
The impact sent Kokoro tumbling onto the pavement.
And then—
A deafening screech.
A brutal force slammed into Nezumi's body.
Her world spun. Pain exploded through her, sharp and unforgiving. The sound of tires screeching against asphalt rang in her ears.
Then—nothing.
Everything went black.
As Nezumi propelled Kokoro out of the truck's path, a single thought echoed in her mind:
"I have to repay you for what you did for my mother. You put your life—and your dignity—on the line to save her. Thank you… take care… goodbye forever."
And then—impact.
The force of the collision sent Nezumi hurtling through the air before she crashed onto the pavement. A sickening thud followed as her body hit the ground, motionless.
Blood spread beneath her like ink seeping into paper, staining the cold asphalt. Her vision blurred, her consciousness slipping away, but through the ringing in her ears, she could still hear Kokoro's voice—raw, desperate, shattering.
"HELP! HELP! SHE'S GOING TO DIE! PLEASE—SOMEBODY—ANYBODY!"
Her cries pierced the air, growing weaker and more frantic, but for Nezumi, everything was already fading.
Kokoro's hands trembled as she dialed for an ambulance, her voice barely steady enough to give their location. Every second stretched into eternity as she knelt beside Nezumi, gripping her cold, bloodstained hand.
Minutes later, the wailing sirens pierced the silence of the road. Paramedics rushed to Nezumi's side, swiftly stabilizing her. Though her injuries were severe, she was still breathing.
Nezumi had survived.
—End of Chapter 3—