I leaned in, whispering with a smirk, "You think you're worth it?"
Flashback to a bit earlier, I was in a hospital bed, fighting for life.
The doctor's relentless words echoed in my ears.
"The strychnine you swallowed... too much, too late for a pump or transfusion. We missed the golden hour to save you."
So this is it—I'm dying?
Strychnine, what the hell is that?
As I faced death, Sarah's face invaded my thoughts.
She's been my wife for three years.
She was into herbal remedies back in college.
Recently, she'd been brewing my daily coffee.
I recalled those odd button-like herbs in my cup—Sarah claimed they were just special herbs for me.
But they were strychnine...
After just four days, I ended up like this.
I felt my body cool down, and my eyelids grew heavy.
It felt like my consciousness was floating away, my body light as a feather, my soul nearly escaping.
"What are you doing? Sarah's almost here!"
Someone shook me hard, snapping me back to reality.
My eyes fluttered open on a park bench, clutching white roses and a small box.
The ring for the proposal, which I picked out myself three years ago.
I frowned at the ring.
It was tiny, just one carat.