Cronus made a quick decision—they had to escape before the car sank any deeper. Otherwise, the immense pressure of the surrounding seawater would make it impossible to open the doors.
He had a gun, so breaking the car window wouldn't be an issue. He was also a strong swimmer and would make sure neither of them came to harm.
Sophia pressed the seatbelt button repeatedly, but the strap remained firmly locked. Cold sweat broke out across her body, and tears welled up in her eyes.
"What's wrong?"
"The seatbelt… it won't release! My seatbelt won't release!"
Sophia's voice trembled with a sob. Her tearful gaze struck Cronus like a knife to the heart.
"It's okay, I'll help you!" He leaned over and pulled with all his strength, but the seatbelt wouldn't budge.
"Damn it!" Cronus's hands were covered in deep scratches, yet he had no sharp object to cut the strap.
Surprisingly, Sophia calmed down at this moment. She pushed him away. Though tears streamed down her face, her voice was firm.
"This won't work! Cronus, you go first. Break the window and get out. You know where we are; find someone to come rescue me. Go!"
"I'm not leaving you. I'll never leave you again!" he shouted hoarsely. His eyes burned with emotion, a look he recognized from his sister Diana. Was this how she had looked—helpless and innocent—when she was violated so many years ago?
Had she, too, wanted to avoid dragging him down?
"Better one person dies than both of us! Go!" Sophia screamed, grabbing the gun from his waist and firing at the rear window.
She had never realized she could be so accurate. The glass shattered, and seawater rushed in, instantly turning the car into a submerged vessel.
They couldn't open their eyes. Cronus reached for her, but she pushed him away. The rushing water separated them, and they could no longer hold onto each other.
With no other choice, Cronus held his breath and swam upward. But his heart felt as though it had sunk with the car into the ocean depths.
Life has a strange way of surprising us.
As Sophia faced this life-and-death crisis, unable to say goodbye to anyone, she felt her baby move for the first time—a delicate flutter, like a butterfly's wings.
The baby was only about four months old. Such an early movement felt more like an omen.
Her heart ached. She didn't want to die. She wanted to stay with the domineering man she loved, to wait for their child's birth together, to hear him sing a few more nursery rhymes.
Fragments of love and hate flashed through her mind like a film montage, but she had no regrets.
She did not regret falling in love with Capone.
She did not regret living this chapter of her life.
And she did not regret carrying this new life within her.
Capone drove straight into them, perhaps out of hatred, perhaps out of love—love so deep, so blind. Or maybe there were other reasons. She no longer wanted to dwell on it.
What she regretted most was not having the chance to say goodbye to him.
They hadn't even had the chance to choose a beautiful name for their baby…
Would he feel sorrow and longing after she was gone?
In this world, there is no fate of separation or decay—only hearts willing to love and those that are not.
If given the chance to choose again, she would still choose to love him with all her heart.
She would have many, many children and create countless romantic memories…
Tears streamed uncontrollably down Sophia's face. The Buddha said that people are destined to meet across three lifetimes, but why was their fate so short-lived?
Goodbye, Capone.
A farewell that would last an eternity.
An eternity where they would never meet again.
The wind swept the snow into the air, swirling like goose feathers.
It had been four years since the port last saw such heavy snowfall.
That night, Capone had the same dream again.
"Sophy! Sophia Diaz! Where are you? Answer me!"
His voice was hoarse and desperate. All around him were chaotic voices and unfamiliar lights. The sea rippled, but Sophia was nowhere to be seen.
He was injured—his chest bone fractured by the airbag's impact, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. He didn't know how long he had been unconscious in the car. When he woke up, he was lying on a stretcher, about to be loaded into an ambulance.
But he forced himself upright, struggling to rush toward the gap in the roadside railing.
He saw Cronus standing there, wrapped in a blanket, soaked from head to toe. But Sophia was nowhere in sight.
"Where is she? Where is she?! Where is she?!"
He charged at the man like a madman, swinging his fist with all his strength, his chest feeling like it was about to explode from pain.
"I'm sorry!" Cronus's voice was heavy and short, the three words landing like a tombstone on their hearts.
Capone punched him again and again, each blow fueled by rage and anguish. "Why?! Why didn't you save her? Why didn't you save her?"
Cronus didn't fight back. Capone was like an enraged predator, unstoppable. No one could pull him away until his questions dissolved into anguished cries.
"Boss, please, don't do this. The police and our team have already sent divers down to search!"
"Boss, let us take you to the hospital! Leave this to us!"
...
Many voices spoke around him, but he barely registered any of them. He just stood there, staring at the sea before him, motionless and hollow.
"Don't bother me. I'm going to find her… I have to find her!"
"Boss, it's too dangerous! Please come back up. We'll—"
"I told you to leave me alone! Let me go! Let go of me!" he roared. "Sophia is down there! She's in the water! Can't you see? She's still there, with my child! She's alone in that freezing water. How could I leave her? How could I…"
He couldn't finish his sentence. A mouthful of blood surged out, and he collapsed to his knees, trembling and broken.
Even in this moment, as every ounce of strength drained from his body and he felt utterly hollow, Capone couldn't bring himself to face the calm, unassuming waves that hid the woman he loved most beneath them.
That very morning, they had made matching strawberry cream cakes together. He had held her and the baby in her belly in his arms, even kissed her again. When he made his wish, she was there beside him, smiling. He had looked so devout because every part of his wish included her.
She had been silent for so long, but recently, she had started speaking to him again. Though her words had been filled with shock, disappointment, and anger, she had found her voice again—she had been willing to speak to him.
Everything could have been explained. He had chased after her that night to explain it all. No matter who she was, no matter her past or identity, as long as she was Sophia Diaz, he would stand by her for the rest of their lives.
But now, she couldn't hear his cries anymore. She couldn't look up at him with her small, determined face and speak to him ever again.
His face was wet and cold—tears, blood, or perhaps the rain that had begun to fall. He didn't care. He didn't want to leave. All he wanted was to stay here and wait for her.
The sight of so much blood terrified Mandy and Joey, who stood nearby. For a moment, they thought Capone might cough up his very heart.
In the end, they forced him to leave. His eyes remained wide open, but no matter what anyone said to him, he gave no response.
He was like an empty shell, and the only thing that could bring him back to life was the news that Sophia Diaz had been rescued.
But for four years—over a thousand days and nights—that news never came.
Despite all the resources, money, and manpower poured into the search, they found nothing. The car had long been recovered, yet there was no sign of her. Not even her remains.
That winter, the port saw a rare, heavy snowfall.
The last time snow had blanketed this warm coastal city, Capone hadn't yet met Sophia Diaz. He hadn't yet understood the sweetness of mutual love. He guessed Sophia could never have imagined that such heavy snow would fall at the port either.
He had once wished to watch all four seasons with her here. When the snow melted, he'd planned to take her to the South Sea to watch a sunrise. But she was no longer by his side.
That night, he dreamed once more of the accident. Over and over, he heard the same question echo in his mind: *Why didn't you save her? Why didn't you save her?*
Every punch he had landed on Cronus felt as though it had struck his own body, leaving no part of him free from pain.
The nightmare clung to him like a shadow, yet Sophia rarely appeared in his dreams. And when she did, her face was always obscured, impossible to see clearly.
As winters turned to springs and summers to falls, years passed by. But tonight, he once again felt as if he were back in that moment, reliving it all.