Tears soaked my pillow. Memories from ten years ago resurfaced in my dreams like whispers from a past life.
Back then, I had been terminally ill when the system transported me into this world. My mission was clear: win over Hugo.
At the time, he had lost everything. A devastating car accident had left him paralyzed, his business partner had drained his accounts, and his first love, Ava, had abandoned him without a second thought, fleeing to the UK.
Once a man with limitless potential, he had fallen to rock bottom overnight.
The first time I saw him, he lay in a hospital bed, unshaven, his gaze hollow and lifeless.
Thin to the point of frailty, he looked even worse than I had in the final stages of my late stage of cancer.
For two years, I stayed by his side, tending to his needs, accompanying him through endless treatments, and enduring the weight of his unpredictable moods.
Under my careful devotion, he slowly regained his strength. Not only did he stand on his own again, but he also began rebuilding his career, achieving small successes one step at a time.
Then, one day, he proposed.