Nina's hand, holding the umbrella, trembled. She lowered her head and met the boy's pitch-black eyes. They were like an abyss, and inside, Nina could see not a single trace of a will to live.
The peaceful coexistence they had maintained for so long was shattered. The thread Nina had worked so hard to maintain finally snapped.
Ian's gaze was hollow. "I'm begging you... stay away from me."
Nina lowered her gaze. At this moment, Ian was no longer the tragic young boy from the novel, described in just a few lines and destined for an early death. He was a real, flesh-and-blood person, full of emotions and pain.
It was as if Nina could hear his soul crying out.
'Maybe Ian hasn't wanted to live for a long time.'
'It reminded her of herself. Back when she'd been at the end of her rope, she'd stood on a rooftop more than once. What was it that had kept her going?'
'Nina didn't know.'
'But she believed that just being alive was enough. Any problem could be solved.'
