Abigail's POV:
Abigail sat on the edge of her bed, the weight of Samuel's words crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her body trembled, her hands shaking as she wiped at the tears that had started to fall—tears she couldn't control.
She had always prided herself on being the one in control, but now, in the quiet of her room, she felt like everything was slipping away.
"What have I done?" she whispered to herself, staring blankly at the floor.
The words Samuel had spoken echoed in her mind, each one a dagger to her heart.
"I died slowly."
"I loved you, Abigail."
"You killed me every day, piece by piece."
Her breath hitched as she remembered his cold, detached tone. The way he had looked at her—like she was a stranger. It wasn't just his words that stung, but the emptiness in his eyes. The emptiness that she had created.
She had wanted to punish him. Wanted him to feel the same pain she had felt when he had left her. When she had been alone, with everything falling apart around her.
But in doing so, she had destroyed him.
"I should have never done this… I should have never pushed him so far…" Her voice cracked as she spoke the words aloud, her hands clutching the fabric of the sheets as if she could hold onto some semblance of the life they had once shared.
She had always told herself that it was Samuel's fault, that he had abandoned her at her lowest. She told herself that he had left when she had needed him most. But now, all she saw was her own cruelty.
"I pushed him. I made him suffer... and now he's gone." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it felt like the room was closing in on her, suffocating her.
She stood up suddenly, her feet moving before her mind could catch up. She crossed the room in a few short strides, her hands trembling as she reached for the framed picture of Samuel on the nightstand.
Her fingers brushed over the glass, the photo showing a time when they were happy—before the betrayal, before the darkness. He had smiled then, his eyes full of warmth and love. The man she had once adored.
"What happened to us?" she asked, her voice breaking as she looked at the picture. "I ruined everything. I ruined us."
Abigail sank to the floor, the picture still clutched in her hands, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to truly feel the weight of her regret.
She had blamed him for everything, but in the end, she had destroyed him. And in doing so, she had destroyed the only chance she had left at redemption.
The anger she had once felt toward him, the resentment for his departure when her world had crumbled—it all felt so empty now. She had chased after men, sought out distractions, tried to fill the void he had left, but none of it mattered.
None of it had ever mattered.
She wiped her tears away, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. "What am I supposed to do now?"
The room felt colder as she sat there, her body sinking lower into the carpet. She had lost him, and in doing so, she had lost herself.
For the first time in a long while, Abigail realized that the despair she had pushed onto Samuel had come full circle. Now, it was her turn to face the consequences of her actions.
And as much as she wanted to deny it, there was no escaping the truth: She had broken him.
"I never thought he would be the one to walk away… I never thought he would be the one to leave me." Her voice cracked as she spoke, and the weight of those words landed heavily in her chest.
Abigail sat there in silence, the only sound in the room being the steady beat of her heart. The quiet was suffocating, the despair overwhelming. She had everything—wealth, power, success—but none of it mattered without the one person who had truly loved her.
And now… he was gone.
For the first time, she realized what she had done. And it was too late to fix it.
Heavenly Demon's POV:
As I gazed out the window, lost in my thoughts, I suddenly heard the door open. I turned to see Abigail standing there, tears streaking down her face, her anger barely contained. She grabbed my hand forcefully, pulling me toward the door.
"You have no idea how much I've suffered! Come with me!" she demanded, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and grief.
I didn't say a word. I already knew where she was taking me—her father's company, the one that had been shut down. I remembered the scene from the novel all too clearly. She had brought Samuel there, her frustration taking over. The place, filled with the overwhelming scent of chemicals, had caused Samuel to vomit blood due to his illness.
I could still hear her words in my mind, as she spoke to Samuel about how her family had died, and how much pain she had endured. Every word had hit him like a dagger. He couldn't control his emotions, the guilt overwhelming him. The smell, the setting, the memories—it was all too much.
Samuel had loved her, and despite all the pain, he had tolerated it. He had wanted to help her, even if it meant enduring her torments. But that wasn't the plot of the novel anymore.
As I thought about this, my mind began to wonder, What was the author thinking? When I read the novel in my first life, it had driven me to depression. The endless suffering of the protagonist, Samuel, for views and dramatic effect—it didn't make sense to me. To put a character through so much pain, to make them endure torture just to gain empathy… what kind of twisted thinking led to that?
But as I stood there, I understood. The depression I felt in my first life was a result of that constant barrage of suffering. It made me not believe in love anymore. I had seen it before—how easily anger, hate, and power could twist someone's actions. Samuel's three years of suffering, with the pain he endured because of his love, was proof of that.
Love could be a weakness. It could break you if you didn't understand its full weight.
If someone asked me now to choose between love or hate, I would simply choose to stay neutral.
As Samuel, I would simply watch, knowing what was to come. I knew she would repeat the same cycle, just like in the novel.
She would say those cruel, manipulative words that would make him hate himself. She would show him her scars, telling him how much she suffered when he left her. Samuel would be on his knees, begging her to stop, but she wouldn't listen.
But I also knew that Samuel had a reason for leaving her, one she wouldn't believe. She would slap him across the face. She always did. It was her way of manipulating him, making him feel guilty, as if everything that had happened was his fault.
I wasn't going to reveal the truth to her. I knew better. She would never believe it, and her manipulation would continue. But I wasn't Samuel anymore. I wasn't here to suffer for her.
I had lived two lives, and in my second life as the Heavenly Demon, I had become a killing machine, feared by all. In this third life, as Samuel, I would die on my own terms, not because of Abigail's torments.
I wasn't going to tell her who I truly was. I wasn't Samuel, but I knew exactly how she would try to manipulate me, and those cruel words she would use to tear me down—they no longer mattered.
As I followed her to the car, I steeled myself. Whatever she had planned, I would see it through. But I was no longer the broken man I had once been. And this time, the end wouldn't come from her. It would come on my own terms.