A look of despair clouded Nicole's eyes.

“Jarrod, my face is ruined.

A vase shattered against it. Had my arm not shielded me, my face would be entirely mutilated. I might have died."

The word "died" made Jarrod's heart miss a beat.

Quickly recovering, he responded icily, "Yet here you are, still breathing."

Nicole let out a hollow laugh, her face ashen and her hair disarrayed like a deranged woman.

“Jarrod, you're well aware why I was assaulted. You're not just trash.

You're a monster. Want me dead? I'll give you what you desire," she articulated each word, choked with sorrow.

Abruptly, she threw back the blanket, leapt off the bed, and dashed toward the window.

Before Jarrod could react, Nicole had already climbed up.

Staring down at the ground far below, she said bitterly, “Jarrod, this is the tenth floor. Think I'll look worse if I take the plunge’

“Nicole, get back here!" Jarrod bellowed, his eyes widening in panic.

“But my beauty is already ruined. A hideous scar mars my face. No amount of dressing up will change that," Nicole mumbled, deep in reflection.

A wave of desolation swept through her. What was the point of living anymore?

Why had her life capsized so catastrophically upon Jarrod's return?

He had shattered every illusion she had of him.

He had wounded her to the core!

Nicole said, her voice tinged with sorrow, "Jarrod, I've always told you that I don't owe you anything. You've never believed me. Think of it as a lie, then. I once loved you."

If she could, she would live Jarrod's life, enduring all his hardships, just so they could be even.

She'd admitted she once loved him.