At 4:10 a.m., she stood before the expansive window of her 31st-floor apartment, a space she'd rented just a month prior. Her mind wandered to the potential pain of a leap from such a height.
Debt accumulated, relationships soured, and her job offered little solace. She saw no reason to endure such relentless pressure.
How had her life spiraled to this point? She remembered a much brighter existence when she was a child.
A fluffy paw tousled her hair bun; it was her cat, Daisy, seeking breakfast.
"Sorry, Daisy," Yang murmured guiltily, emerging from her sorrow, "I'll refill your bowl right away."
Despite her overwhelming despair, she couldn't muster the courage to end her life; fear of the pain branded her a coward.
With a heavy heart, she resigned herself to preparing the next day's PowerPoint presentation for her demanding boss.