I had left my family behind and come to the mainland to build something on my own. All I'd wanted was to become a leading actress, so my parents would finally agree to let me marry him.
For three years, I hadn't taken a single day off.
And all of it was erased by one sentence:
"If you can't find a way to make Marina forgive you, I'll have to handle it myself."
That killed whatever fight I had left, whatever questions I wanted to throw at him. Instead, I heard myself ask, almost like I was twisting the knife into my own chest:
"And if I refuse?"
He smiled coldly.
"I will make sure you never recover."
That night, I didn't remember how I made it to the hotel.
All I remembered was the wind on the road, biting cold.
So cold it felt like needles drilling into bone.
The next day, I still decided to go to set and finish my last scene.
The scene called for Marina to shove me underwater.
The moment the slate clapped, she didn't give me a second to prepare. Both hands clamped the back of my skull and forced me under.
My strength drained away, little by little, until the director finally yelled cut.
I knelt on the ground, gasping, and forced my eyes open.